


The Wrong Path

by Erviniae



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erviniae/pseuds/Erviniae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the wrong path is often the right one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 411 First Age, Gondolin

**Author's Note:**

> Erestor is around 20, or about the human age of 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Wrong Path  
> Author: erviniae  
> Characters: Erestor, Ecthelion, Glorfindel, Lothwen, Elrond, and many more...  
> Rating: PG to eventual NC-17  
> Beta: Nikkiling  
> Warning: M/M, AU, Angst  
> Disclaimer: All belongs to the esteemed Tolkien. I make no profit  
> In having fun with his wonderful universe.  
> Summary: Sometimes the wrong path is often the right one.

Sitting beside the road that led to his house, the elfling watched as the elite of the warriors made their way through the third gates of the Hidden City. Erestor's eyes filled with awe at the shining armor of the warriors, while the herald’s held high the elaborate flags of the two houses that waved gently in the light breeze. The line of flautists that preceded them played a merry marching tune. Many came out of their houses to wave to the returning soldiers who were lead by Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion.

The ball that Erestor held suddenly fell as he tried to join in the waving, only to roll in front of the massive stallions. Running out to retrieve his toy with no fear, as only an elfling would do, Erestor found that he was the cause of the sudden and efficient halting of the march homeward. Looking up, he gazed upon the bright helm of a smiling soldier. Long dark hair cascaded in waves beneath the helm and as the wearer dismounted gracefully before the young one, his cloak of deep blue swung over his shoulders to reveal the dazzling armor beneath it.

Erestor, frozen to his spot, could do nothing but stare at the warrior who seemed 10 feet tall to him. Suddenly, the warrior stooped down to this elfling's level so that he could talk to him personally.  
Taking off his spiked helm, the warrior put it easily under one arm. Cascading waves of ebony fell unbound save for two braids next to each finely pointed ear. Eyes twinkling with mirth regarded the brave little one before him. A melodious tenor spoke to the elfling, “What is your name, young one?”

“My name is Erestor, what is your name?”

Ecthelion threw his head back and laughed at the child's unwavering spirit. Glorfindel sat upon his steed and laughed as well at the fearlessness of youth.

“My name is Ecthelion my pretty little one.” Smiled the lord of the fountain as he gently put a stray hair of the elfling’s back in place. Erestor smiled brightly at the magnificence before him.

“Why did you choose this moment to cross before my soldiers?” Ecthelion wondered.

“My ball, it ran away, and I do believe that your horse squished it.” Erestor replied with a look of melancholy.

Looking at the flattened toy, Ecthelion sighed and shook his head. “I do believe you are correct and I shall have to replace your ball with another, would that be to your pleasing, young Erestor?”

“Oh, yes, my lord!” The elfling beamed joyfully, his dark eyes filled with happiness.

Ecthelion then reached for his blue velvet pouch that was securely tied upon his sword belt and began to rummage through it only to produce two pieces of wrapped hard candies. He offered both to the little one before him, who smiled brightly and lunged forward to place a sweet kiss upon the warrior's cheek in return.

“Thank you so very much,” Erestor whispered and then hugged his new friend.

“You are most welcome my young Erestor.” Ecthelion then stood and bowed, replacing his spiked helm and making sure that Erestor was returned safely to the side of the road once more.

As Ecthelion mounted and resumed his march, Glorfindel grinned brightly. “So you have made another friend. You have such patience, Thel.”

Ecthelion shrugged his shoulders, “How could I not, was he not the sweetest elfling you have ever seen?” Glorfindel could do naught but agree with his friend.

 

Erestor ran towards the back of his house. Nearing the steps where his mother and father were relaxing in the afternoon sun, he began a joyful skipping and fell into his mother's waiting arms, hugging her tightly.

“Look nana, may I eat them?” He opened his hand to show her the candy therein.

“Who gave this to you, my son?” Questioned his father with curiosity.

Erestor's face suddenly revealed a look of such immense affection that his little cheeks reddened from blushing. “Ecthelion,” was the preoccupied reply.

Erestor's father's eyes widened in surprise, “The Lord of the Fountain?”

Shaking his head Erestor actually sighed dreamily, “I love him, when I grow up I am going to marry him.” Leaning against his mother, he was shocked as his father stood and grabbed him by his sleeves, the candy effectively knocked out of his hand in the process. Dragging Erestor into the house, his mother cried out and followed her family inside of their modest home.

Once inside, Erestor's father let go of his arms only to grab his chin tightly, bringing his son's gaze to his own.

“You must NEVER say such things again, do you hear me!” Hissed his father, spit flying from his mouth in ire. Chin trembling, Erestor began to cry.

“Males. Do. Not. Marry. It. Is. Forbidden.” He emphasized each word he spoke through clenched teeth.

Looking towards his mother for support, he saw that she too was crying. “Wh ... why is it wrong?” He stammered  
.

“Because it is the wrong path! I never want to hear such things from your lips again, do you hear me?”

Erestor nodded, his mind spinning, “Why is love wrong?” He whispered.

“Love is not wrong, love between males is wrong… only males and females love each other and marry. Now go to your room until dinner is ready.”

“Y ... yes sir,” Erestor turned to go to his room, his shoulder's slumped in retreat. He just had his innocent little world blown apart.

 

TBC...


	2. 509 First Age, Gondolin

509 First Age, Gondolin

 

Finishing strapping on his new quiver and bow, Erestor looked around his room as his eyes came to rest upon the basket on the floor in his closet. The basket was filled with various toy balls of many sizes. Lord Ecthelion had indeed replaced his “squished” ball, ten-fold, during the twentieth year of his young life. He had kept them safe all these years. As he had kept his secret desires safe as well.

Nervousness threatened to overcome him as he nearly ran down the steps into the kitchen. Kissing his mother sweetly, he took one bite of the offered breakfast, only to find he could not swallow it. “Forgive me, but I find I cannot eat this morning for excitement of my lessons.” He looked apologetically at his mother.

She smiled brightly at her only child, “worry not my sweet one, enjoy this day and learn well.”

“I shall,” he smiled fondly back.

Almost out the door Erestor cringed at hearing his father’s voice. “Wait my son, let me look at you.” Erestor slowly turned, as his father looked him over, adjusting a strap here and there.

 

“Go, make me proud,” commanded his father lightly.

“Yes, father,” Erestor bowed his head in respect as he finally left the house to head to his first day of archery training. He had already had his sword training for the last ten years under Lord Glorfindel’s watchful eye. He was not the best swordsman, though he was adequate to hold his own in battle if need be. His studies of mathematics, history and lore were advanced and he worked weekends as a scribe in the great library of the palace. It was an honorable position for one so young. Erestor enjoyed every minute of his time there for he was allowed to read all he desired in his leisure.

The main reason for Erestor’s nervousness this day was due to being under the watchful eye of Lord Ecthelion of the Fountain. For Ecthelion was in charge of the training of new archers. Though he rarely had hands on training with the Elves under his care, he would occasionally make an appearance to see how all progressed in their studies of this form of weaponry. The week before he had been handed the roster of the newest students and upon espying Erestor’s name, he had made a mental note to be there for the first day of training. Smiling to himself, Ecthelion remembered the day five years past when he, due to boredom, had joined Glorfindel in watching the sword training when his eyes were drawn to the willowy dark beauty amidst the larger built warriors in training. His gaze raked over the slender and lithe form of Erestor with a glimmer of appreciation; an appreciation that no male should look at another male with. Glorfindel had noticed the predatory and lustful look in his friend’s eyes until Ecthelion, realizing his obvious staring, looked elsewhere.

Glorfindel knew that his friend had the “unnatural” attraction to males. Oh, Ecthelion did all he could to cover it up. He spent time with many maidens, often lavishing exorbitant gifts on them, always a complete and utter gentleman with them. He dined them, danced with them, sang to them, played his flute for them, so as none ever had a bad word to say about the doting Lord of the Fountain. Rumor among a few of the older lords was that Ecthelion was caught in a reprehensible act with another male when a young adult. The cohort in this delicate situation was a young warrior that was promptly sent to Beleriand, never to be heard from again.

So it was that Ecthelion found himself standing before Erestor. He and his chosen warriors in charge of the actual training had walked back and forth appraising the students gathered before them. Most had that warrior build that was constructed for swords. A few had the long, graceful and lean archer’s build; broad shoulders flowing down to slender hips and long, lean legs. Neither knew it but both were trembling inside at the sight of the other. For ever since that day fifty years ago when Erestor inadvertently stopped the march of the warriors going home, he had fallen in love with the beautiful and vibrant Lord of the Fountain. At first it was an innocent elfling crush that had long since developed into love. A love that he chastised himself for feeling, a love that made him feel foul and depraved.

The welcoming speech was short that was delivered by Lord Ecthelion, explaining what was expected of those standing before him on his training grounds. And as was custom, the lord then stood before each student and gave the warrior greeting. Finally coming to stand before Erestor, Ecthelion and he nodded, hands over hearts, eyes never wavering from the other, sparks flying throughout their bodies, it was torture and blissful excitement in one. Sure that all could feel it too, both looked around and to their relief none saw or cared to show they did.

Two weeks passed without a visit by Ecthelion to the students. Resigned that he may not see his secret desire for some time, Erestor practiced whole-heartedly and indeed excelled at archery like Glorfindel suspected he would do. Notching an arrow, his elbow back and high, his string pulled back to his cheek, Erestor found a silky baritone coming from just behind his right ear. “Your elbow is too high, here let me show you,” Ecthelion said loudly as if appearing from thin air. Startled, Erestor jumped and in releasing his arrow, it fell with a dull thump into the grass.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the dark-haired lord smiled. Standing directly behind Erestor, he slid his hands down Erestor’s arms slowly. His touch sending chills throughout the young Elf’s body. Slender, talented fingers guided his hands to the proper spots on the bow. His right hand glided up Erestor’s right arm to the elbow. That melodious voice was whispering in his ear so close that Ecthelion’s breath caused tendrils of raven hair to move gently next to a perfectly pointed ear. Elbow cradled in the lord of the fountain’s grasp, “release,” was whispered into his ear and the arrow left to find its mark, dead center.

“Excellent!” remarked Ecthelion as he made to move to help another. Before doing so he spoke only for Erestor’s hearing. “You hair smells divinely, beautiful Erestor.” Erestor found those words go straight to the pit of his stomach and to his groin as he let out a tiny whimper. “If I have not misunderstood what it is we are feeling, meet me this evening here, at the moon’s highest peak.”

Finding he could no longer speak, Erestor nodded once as Ecthelion moved to the next archer. Though calm on the surface, there was a war raging inside of the Lord of The Fountain. He knew this was forbidden, he had experienced the wrath such a liaison could occur first hand. But he felt such attraction to Erestor that he could barely breathe, it consumed him, it was a fire he had to douse, a thirst he needed to quench or else he should perish with want and desire. He knew it was so much more than mere lust, for that he could take care of by his own hand, no, this was strong, it overwhelmed all his senses, and it enveloped his very being… it was love.

TBC…..


	3. The Moon and its Secrets.

The moon and its secrets.

 

Evening was torture. Time moved as slowly as the river does when its banks freeze during winter. Trying hard not to appear as jittery as he felt, Erestor decided it would be best to spend the evening in his room so as to not draw a suspicious eye to himself. After tidying up, and after a long bath, he sat on the wide window seat while longing for the moon to rise. Wrapped in a warm bathrobe, he survived the nightly knocks at his door as one by one, each parent said their goodnights before retiring for their rest. His stomach felt as if it was doing combat training; his hands began to sweat, and his heart threatened to burst forth from his chest. Willing himself to calm down, he began the task of dressing for his rendezvous with his heart’s desire. Never did he think this day would come, or even be possible to achieve.

Deciding upon a simple dark tunic of deepest blue and leggings of black, he folded his sleek black hair into one thick plait and waited for quiet to settle about his house as well as the city itself. With stealth he made his way past his parent’s bedroom, down the winding stairs, through the kitchen and out to what may lie ahead. He knew his life was about to change and he found enchantment in the very prospect.

Ecthelion fared much the same. Though he knew well the consequences would be dire if they were to be found out. He began to doubt. What if he were imagining their attraction? What if this was a trap by another House to expose and ensnare him? Thinking back to the way Erestor’s hair had smelled; the quiver of his skin as they touched, brought all his confidence back quickly.

Standing in the line of trees out of view, Ecthelion watched as Erestor entered the training ground and he began to tremble. His legs felt weak. He was unsure they would work. Stepping out slightly, Erestor caught the movement and made his way to the line of trees. Stopping directly before  
Ecthelion, he gave a nervous smile to which Ecthelion offered his hand to the beauty before him. A slender hand placed itself within his hesitantly, only to be held to guide him further into the surrounding wood.

They walked hand in hand for quite some time. Neither said a word but gave furtive glances to the other from time to time. Finally Ecthelion stopped, deeming them far enough away from prying eyes to just be who they were meant to be. Leaning back against a huge oak, one knee bent so as his foot lay against the rough bark, Ecthelion drew Erestor near him. Boldly, Erestor leaned his thigh against Ecthelion’s bent leg as strong yet gentle hands reached to caress his beautiful face. Ecthelion was at a loss for words. He just caressed the soft skin before him with such affection as to have Erestor lean into each caress, eyes closed and ruby mouth slightly open. Running his fingers against those luscious petal soft lips, Ecthelion found that he was very much aroused by this simple contact alone. As Erestor opened his eyes slowly, Ecthelion whimpered at the emotion he saw in them, for it was a passion that mimicked his own.

Erestor’s hands began to hesitantly explore Ecthelion’s face as well. Tracing the lord’s lips with his fingertips, he gasped at finding them suddenly drawn into the mouth before him. Ecthelion lovingly licked each one slowly, bringing such sparks of desire to Erestor, that he grew harder than he had ever imagined one could.

A hand caressed its way along Erestor’s jaw line, past a perfect ear and came to rest on the nape of his neck. Drawing him closer, Ecthelion forgot how to breathe as those petal soft lips inched ever nearer until they finally met in a sweet brushing of yearning. Soft, gentle kisses soon gave way to longer, more passionate needs. Leaning his body completely against Ecthelion brought their arousals into perfect contact as hands started to explore. Erestor ran his along that strong leg only to find it move to hold him in place around the waist. Hips automatically began rotating, pulsing against the other in a heated contact of want and need.

Tongues began to explore every crevice of a mouth, an ear, and a neck. Heavy breathing and soft moaning broke the silence of the tranquil night as the forbidden lovers became acquainted with each other under the moonlight.

Breaking their kiss, Ecthelion rested his forehead against Erestor’s. “So beautiful,” he whispered against swollen lips.

“Yes…you are,” breathed Erestor as he once more took the lord’s mouth in a searing kiss that went straight to their groins…igniting the fire within their core. Ecthelion groaned loudly in reply. His hands smoothed down Erestor’s back, past slim hips to grab the sweetest mounds, both hard and yet so soft. Putting his leg down, he pulled his love against him by his beautiful ass and together they ground lustfully against each other.

Erestor whimpered at the sudden contact and feeling overwhelmed with emotion, he shuddered with sensation- his hands instinctively going to the ties at Ecthelion’s leggings, then to his own, bringing their pulsating cocks together- flesh against flesh. It was wanton and desperate with pre-cum steadily slicking their glorious friction. Their kissing became frenzied, teeth biting lips, tongues being suckled as both felt the inevitable combustion start deep within their beings. Nothing else mattered at that moment…only what they were feeling, only what they were doing. Erestor’s head fell back as he let out a series of quick shuddering breaths as delicious whimpers left those exquisite lips.

Watching the beauty in his passions before him brought on the release of the lord of the fountain. He closed his eyes and let go such a moan when he came that Erestor found it the most erotic thing he had ever been witness to. Their stomach, hips and groins were covered in the thick cream of their spent passions as they stayed there holding onto one another, each with their head on the other’s shoulder. Turning heads to face each other, they shared gentle, loving kisses as the moon watched over them.

“If this is wrong,” whispered Erestor with love thick in his voice, “then let me be found guilty.”

 

TBC…


	4. A Plan is Forged

Sneaking back into the house was no easy feat for Erestor. He found that he was continually humming and smiling. Chastising himself for singing once more, he held one hand over his mouth as he peered into the kitchen window to check if the way was clear. Sighing with relief he silently made his way through the darkened house and up the stairs to his room. Closing the door quietly behind him, he leaned against it as he closed his eyes whilst willing his heart to slow its rapid beat.

Smiling, he undressed for bed and cleaned up as well as he could, ridding his clothes of any evidence of his midnight excursion. He could barely sleep. He kept playing the night over in his mind again and again. A knocking at his bedroom door awoke him to the faint glow of the coming dawn. The door opened slightly as his mother’s face peaked into the room. “Erestor, time to awaken or you shall be late for your archery practice,” Eirien spoke softly to her only child.

Dressing quickly and hastily braiding his hair, Erestor ran down the stairs into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass of juice, he began to gulp it down as his mother pushed him to sit on the stool. “Your hair is quite the mess, here let me re-braid it for you.” Erestor began to protest but found his hair yanked a bit hard. He sat down quickly.

“I do not know where you went last night,” she began to whisper into his ear as he widened his eyes in fear and began looking around for his father.

Seeing her son’s ill ease, she gently kissed his cheek. “Your father has gone for the day, and you are most fortunate that it was I who heard you come home last night and not he. I do not know what you were doing or whom you were with, but I must warn you to be very careful my son, for the laws are strict not only in this house, but in this city as well.” Erestor looked guiltily at his mother, his cheeks ablaze with color. “I love you my son, but I can only do so much to protect you.” She smiled then as she finished his braid. “There, you look presentable once more.”

Erestor stood to embrace his mother. “Thank you, for everything.” He looked directly into her amber eyes as he spoke. She nodded as hers began to glisten with unshed tears. As the door shut behind him, she sank heavily to the stool he had just vacated and wept-for a mother always knows her child’s true heart.

 

……………………

 

Months passed and their love grew. To be apart caused physical pain to the lovers. They found the time to sneak away was too few and they rarely found a chance to exchange glances, let alone touches. Ecthelion grew restless in his suffering. It began to show in small ways to those closest to him. None noticed it more than his friend, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower.

Standing upon his terrace one night, Glorfindel watched as Ecthelion paced back and forth in his study for seemingly the hundredth time that night. “Thelion, peace! Stop your infernal pacing; whatever is on that small mind of yours?” Yelled Glorfindel as he came to stand in his friend’s path.

Stopping suddenly, Ecthelion went to stare out into the vastness of the night. Glorfindel shoved a glass of wine in his direction to which the darkling lord took it promptly and in one gulp disposed of its contents. “I need…I want… Oh, never mind,” sighed Ecthelion into the night air. Glorfindel turned to lean against the balustrade so as he now faced his friend.

“Come, I have known you since we were impetuous elflings, wrecking havoc upon our palaces, what troubles you-troubles me…will you not share your feelings with me?” Glorfindel reached his hand across to place on his friends arm in support.

“Oh! But that I could,” sneered Ecthelion, changing the subject quickly, “I know! I shall throw a party, yes, invite all the trainees, a sort of recompense for effort well spent, and that sort of thing, what do you say? I could invite the various lords as well, if they so see fit to join. Though I gather a few would not stoop so low as to mingle with the rank and file.” Ecthelion snorted in disdain for some of his “equals” and their pompous views of others below their station.

What are you hiding? Glorfindel thought to himself. “A party would indeed be a fitting respite for those we have in our care,” answered Glorfindel with reservation to his voice.

Ecthelion looked over sharply at the sound of doubt in his friend’s voice. “Here comes the nay saying, “ Ecthelion began to argue.

“I have no nay saying, Thelion, I just wonder how this will solve your problem that is forever in your eyes lately.”

Looking away, Ecthelion turned his head to the night air and let his eyes wander to where he knew Erestor’s house lay, and he let his heart dream of the one who held his heart as he suddenly sighed with intense longing.

 

TBC…………


	5. A Party to Remember

Excitement floated upon the very air. All of Gondolin had been abuzz about the "kind and generous" Lord Ecthelion’s party for the troops and students. All were invited who served, along with their wives.

The courtyard was strewn with lanterns casting a soft glow about the stone floor. Candles floated on top of flowered wreaths upon the waters of the fountain. Laughter filled the air as well as the lively songs played by the minstrels of the House of the Fountain. Food in endless supply adorned the buffeted tables watched over by the house servants as wine and ale flowed freely and constant.

The only other lords to come to the festivity were Lords Rog and Penlod. Those two along with Lord Glorfindel were steadily drinking and yelling over at Ecthelion, who seemed to be the only Elf there not imbibing thus far, and begging him to join the minstrels in song. Never one to shrink from the spotlight, Ecthelion bowed to his friends as he joined the minstrels to the cheer of all in attendance.

Singing sweetly, his voice carried gently along the breeze. The joyous sound caressed the ear of Erestor, making his heart race madly as he heard his lover's voice in song. Reaching the courtyard, he was happily greeted by his fellows, finding an ale pushed into his hand as he turned to watch the performance. His breath hitched at the scene for there was Ecthelion, resplendent in blue velvet leggings, calf high black leather boots and a tunic of gray silk sewn with diamonds and silver on the front to resemble the spray of water. His hair was braided on the sides with silver beads, some diamond encrusted, all throughout the intricate plait. Instinctively he closed his eyes and sighed, wanting nothing more than to be held by the handsome Elf currently serenading the crowd. His voice was smooth and light and filled with emotion. Erestor watched as Ecthelion turned his way; their eyes met and held. No one else existed around them now.

 

That was all he needed to shine. For his beauty outshone all in Gondolin to Ecthelion's keen eyes. The Lord of the Fountain suppressed an urge to run straight to him and take him in his arms kissing him passionately in front of all there to see.

Glorfindel heard the falter in his friend's singing and turned his attention away from his wine and towards Ecthelion. Ecthelion, ever the confident performer, never stumbled when entertaining. Scanning the crowd, Glorfindel smiled or nodded here and there to various Elves whom his eye caught as he was surveying. Noticing a new Elf in red, he saw it was.... now what was the Elf's name? Oh yes, Erestor, thought the Lord of the Golden Flower. A promising young Elf. Intelligence to rival any according to his notes, and not too bad with weapons either. Glorfindel did not seem to think that this young Elf would follow a warrior's path for he heard rumors that Turgon's chief advisor had his eye on this one's progress. And he had a beauty to rival any ellith’s. It was strange to see a male Elf so "pretty" for lack of a more masculine word, he thought to himself.

Glorfindel suddenly felt his stomach lurch. He watched, he observed, he learned. That was Glorfindel's way, simple but effective. What he was seeing at this moment made his thoughts race. This young Elf's gaze was being returned by his dearest friend, or was it? He remembered when they were just past their majorities and there was a big commotion amongst the Houses. The rumor going around was that Ecthelion had been caught in some sort of "situation" with one of Salgant's best guards. Glorfindel, being young, was not allowed to go to the very important and very "secret" meeting called urgently by Turgon. He knew it concerned his friend. He knew that this guard was exiled and that his friend had seemed to withdraw more into himself and was allowed to do naught but his duties for quite some time. Only once did he broach the subject with Ecthelion, only for his friend's eyes to widen and glisten as if to tear. Shaking his head sadly, Ecthelion told him to never ask him again and to speak of it no more. Glorfindel never did so again. Not realizing that the song had ended until he heard the clapping, Glorfindel decided he would observe much more closely from now on.

Ecthelion flamboyantly bowed before he made his way through the crowd: Stopping to talk to an Elf here, being introduced to a spouse there. All the while he was making his way towards his lover. Erestor drank his ale quickly, licking his lips of any remaining froth. Ecthelion whispered into his ear as he passed, seemingly only welcoming him to the revelry to the casual observer. "Stay and as most leave, make your way to my private study at the end of the long hall." A key was pressed into his hand. "I will come to you when all is clear." Erestor nodded as his hand was gently squeezed while Ecthelion made his way back to the other lords.

Standing with the other lords once more, he was congratulated on his song. Grinning, Ecthelion eagerly downed a mug of ale, the first he had imbibed in all night. Rog patted him on the back and gestured to the nearby buffet as all turned their eyes to where he pointed.

"See that one? Son of Calimion, the archivist," paused Rog. Ecthelion tried not to act unusual in anyway. "Well I heard that he is at the top of all his studies, and is ripe for the picking by the various

counselors. I also heard that he might be matched with Salgant’s niece in a few years."

"What!" Ecthelion replied much too loudly, quickly and with much interest. All around them turned his way in interest, along with Erestor, who was in the middle of popping a small sweet in his mouth.

Rog laughed out loud, "don’t tell me you had your eyes set on Salgant’s niece, Ecthelion, for she is hardly to your usual standards." All laughed but Glorfindel.

"I dare say that the lad will be the pretty one in that marriage," mused Penlod to which Rog laughed heartily in agreement.

"Truly, my lords, do not all maidens need love?" Ecthelion smiled wickedly, quickly regaining control.

"That they do, I suppose, that they do." Rog mused. "Speaking of which, I think I shall take my leave of your sorry arses and go to my own maiden for loving."

All laughed and soon the revelry began to break up with less and less Elves in attendance until it dwindled down to just Glorfindel and the servants.

"This was a splendid evening my friend and quite the success." Glorfindel clasped Ecthelion’s forearm in gesture.

"Aye, that it was my friend, and thank you for all your help and support." Ecthelion watched as Glorfindel bowed, tripped over a chair on his way out of the courtyard and made his way towards his own home.

Turning to go to his study, Ecthelion gestured for his head house servant. "I am going to my study and wish to be bothered by none."

"Aye, my lord." Nodded the servant in response.

Excitement welled within every cell of Ecthelion’s being as he walked the now too long corridor towards his private study. He had to will himself to calm his breathing as he took out his spare key and opened his door slowly. The only light in his study came from a small candelabra lit upon his desk.

Scanning the room, panic began to set in as he searched for his lover. Eyeing the settee near the window, he saw a black clad leg sticking out of the end of the white couch. Smiling wide he crossed the distance quickly and peered down to see the sleeping form that lay wantonly upon his divan.

 

Raven black hair spread across the pillow. He lay on his side, his head nestled against his right arm, his left leg crossed over the right, making his hip and ass curve deliciously out. Ecthelion reached down and caressed his left cheek causing the sleeping one to look up and smile. "You came," whispered Erestor as he went to move.

"No, stay there," Ecthelion smiled as he jumped over the settee and lay there facing his love.

Erestor giggled at the agility of his nimble lover, which was soon replaced with sighs as he found his lips in a sensual embrace. "Erestor, I…." He kissed the sweetest lips he ever tasted, his hands running down that lean thigh and over the smooth mound of flesh, kneading it gently. Erestor ran his hands along Ecthelion’s face as if trying to believe that he was real and indeed here with him at this very moment. His hands traveled over a chiseled chest, firm abdomen and began to rub the straining arousal of his heart’s desire. A loud moan was his reward for that touch.

They found themselves in the throws of such passion that neither could speak. Hands and lips worshipped the other and soon they found their leggings opened and the dance of flesh upon flesh began. The dance made easier by the silky slide of leaking fluids. Heavy breathing filled the room and when they came it was to arms and legs entwined tightly as if it were not two bodies on that settee, but one-one writhing in lust and love. No words were spoken as Erestor laid his head upon Ecthelion’s heaving chest. Ecthelion laid his upon the top of Erestor’s head as he stroked silken hair with one hand, the other holding Erestor’s own upon his chest. Their legs entwined together as they both fell into a peaceful reverie.

Glorfindel was halfway to his home when he remembered that he left an important missive back in Ecthelion’s study. Cursing, he turned back and decided he might as well sleep there too since he was starting to feel the effects of his merriment. Wobbly entering the house he knew as well as his own, he walked the empty corridor and turned the handle of the study door. Eyeing the document, he quietly made his way to the desk when he heard a sigh and saw boots hanging over the edge of the divan by the window. Creeping over, he decided to tell Ecthelion he was staying, but as he peered over the back of the comfortable couch he froze at the sight that greeted him there.

 

TBC…………


	6. Discovery

Glorfindel found that he could not move. The sight before him took his breath away. At first he thought he was mistaken and that the one entwined in the lovers' embrace with Ecthelion was some maiden, but he knew it was not. He knew who it was. He felt repulsed because that is what he was told to feel all his life. Looking once more he found that there was a loveliness to what he was witnessing: Ecthelion cradled the one on his chest reverently and in turn was being embraced in tenderness. It was a beautiful sight to behold. It stirred something in him. He knew what he was observing- it was love.

Fear overtook his senses then. If the lover's were found out it would end in disaster. He could not think. What should he do? What could he do? Warn them? Protect them? He felt a strange urge to do so, as if they were vulnerable and not trained warriors. But it was not war they would need saving from, but far worse. It was from prejudice and judgment. He knew what had happened to Ecthelion's first male lover. They all thought it was banishment. He had overheard those who had done the deed for the council. They were drunk and in the local inn and were talking in a corner when Glorfindel had happened by. Being drunk they thought they were speaking in low tones; Glorfindel heard every word they spoke. They had killed the guard and buried him far outside the city gates.

Turning to leave and to clear his mind, Glorfindel tripped over his own feet, falling to his knees with a thud. The lovers opened their eyes being startled. Putting a finger to Erestor's lips, Ecthelion urged his silence. Nodding, Ecthelion disentangled himself from Erestor, hastily tied his leggings as did Erestor and stood facing the door. Glorfindel was slowly getting to his feet silently cursing for being so clumsy.

“Glorfindel?” Ecthelion questioned his friend.

Closing his eyes, Glorfindel stood and faced his friend. “I, I forgot the missive and I...um, came back and I saw...” he stammered.

“You saw what?” Ecthelion panicked now.

“He saw us.” Erestor came to stand next to his lover, not willing to play this charade.

“Aye,” was the only answer from Glorfindel.

Ecthelion rushed to the door and locked it, inwardly cursing himself for not doing so earlier.

“Fin, we need to talk.” Glorfindel nodded and sat in one of the chairs by the desk. The missive lying on the floor, forgotten.

Ecthelion sat across from the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, his friend, and sighed while running a hand through his hair. Erestor moved to stand behind Ecthelion, laying a slender hand upon his shoulder in a show of support. Instinctively, Ecthelion grabbed the hand offered him, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, before reluctantly letting it return to his shoulder. “Glorfindel, Erestor and I were meant to be together, no matter what our law says, this... this cannot be wrong.” Erestor squeezed his shoulder.

“I can not believe that love can be wrong, my lord. Though I know of the importance of keeping our love a secret in this city of ours.” Erestor spoke directly into Glorfindel's eyes.

“I fear for you Ecthelion, for if you are found out, Erestor shall pay dearly.”

“I will be banished with him if that is so.” Ecthelion replied.

“No, not banishment,” Glorfindel paused, “but death.”

“Nay, that is absurd!” Ecthelion began to protest even as he grabbed Erestor's hand tightly.

“No, for I know of this to be true,” Glorfindel spoke.

“What are you saying?” Came the whispered reply from Ecthelion. Fear shown in his eyes at the sudden realization that his youthful lover of ages past may not have been banished at all. Cocking his head to the side, Ecthelion's eyes sought Glorfindel's in explanation.

Glorfindel just nodded, watching painfully as Ecthelion gasped. His body began to shake. Not knowing what was wrong, Erestor went to the table which held some sort of liquor and glasses; filled a glass with the dark and thick fruity smelling liquid and handed it to Ecthelion who eagerly took it and drank it down. Erestor did not interrupt to ask what was wrong. He knew Ecthelion would tell him in time.

“Thel, if I found you so easily, what would stop anyone else from doing so? You must be cautious.” Glorfindel replied with genuine concern.

“I thought we were being discreet.” He sighed heavily.

“Will you betray us?”

“Never would I betray you, but I will not play a part in your deception. Do not ask this of me.” This time Glorfindel stood and began pacing the floor. He stopped suddenly and stood before Erestor as he looked directly into those brown eyes. “Do you love him?”

“With all that I am.” Erestor replied easily and with unwavering eye contact; his chin held up defiantly.

Glorfindel closed his eyes sighing heavily while shaking his head. “Good...good. I pray you never have to prove this.”

“I will stand before King Turgon himself and profess my love if needed.”

Glorfindel came closer and grabbed Erestor's shoulder in a tight grip. “I pray it never comes to that.”

“Can you not stop seeing each other?” Glorfindel suddenly asked.

“Never!” Came the duel reply.

“I fear there will be naught but trouble for your future, my friend.” Glorfindel replied sadly. “I feel tired, I need to lie down.” They watched as Glorfindel headed for the door, unlocking it, he looked back upon the pair and continued through the door. He made his way to one of Ecthelion's many guest rooms and collapsed upon the soft bed.

Erestor turned to Ecthelion with fear in his eyes. “Will he betray us?”

Ecthelion drew Erestor against his broad chest as they embraced tightly. “Never, he is an Elf of the highest honor, his word is his bond.”

Placing hands on either side of Erestor's face, Ecthelion looked with intense love and devotion into his lover's eyes before pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss which quickly became desperate in its desire. “Come, sleep in my bed this night, for I desire to awaken with you in my arms.”

Erestor nodded his agreement, he wanted nothing more in his life at that moment but to feel the comforting embrace of the one who held his heart.

 

TBC.......


	7. The Deal

In all the months they had been lovers, not once had they seen the other fully naked. The opportunity never arose for them to be alone long enough nor safe enough to do so until now. As the door closed behind them, Ecthelion locked it at once. Erestor grinned and in two strides Ecthelion had him in his embrace. Lips met in the gentlest of kisses, hips pressed together as hands ran through silken hair. Ecthelion began to walk them backwards towards his bed, as the kisses became rougher, more necessary, tongues entwined in a lazy dance, breath harsh and panting.

“I need to feel your skin against mine,” Erestor whimpered against his lover's sweet lips. A growl was his reply. Laughing, Erestor broke free from their embrace as he eyed the bed.

“That, my lord, is a rather large bed.” He smiled while seductively biting his bottom lip as he slowly unfastened the clasps of his tunic.

Ecthelion gulped and stuttered, unable to take his eyes off the one before him. When Erestor stood in naught but his leggings, Ecthelion's heart threatened to burst from his very chest. Shaking his head he murmured while perusing the one before him, “so beautiful...Erestor, I...I love you with all that I am.”

Erestor found himself in the most sensual of kisses, which brought them both to their knees. “I love you, by all that is good and right, I love you,” whispered Erestor in answer as he cradled Ecthelion's head against his bare chest.

Neither remembered lying on the bed, nor removing the rest of their clothing. All they knew was that they were moving as one against the other with no clothing barring the way this time. Moans, sighs and declarations of love filled the air. Not an area of skin was left untouched or unkissed. Many times they spent themselves that night. Many times they came with the other's name on their lips. Finally, they were able to taste one another's essence, and in doing so they found that they could not get their fill.

As the morning hours came closer and closer they feel asleep within entwined arms and legs. They felt at peace and though they had not shared the ultimate intimacy yet; they felt happy and content in all that they were.

So it was with much surprise that they were awakened by a constant pounding at the bedroom door. “Ecthelion! Open this door at once!” Came a familiar voice.

Ecthelion jumped up and quickly began to dress, motioning for Erestor to do the same. “Hide!” he whispered in a frightened voice. “Coming!” He yelled back.

The pounding continued, harder this time. “Ecthelion!” Suddenly the door burst open to reveal Salgant along with six of his guards, some of whom were friends of his.

“How dare you break into my home!” Ecthelion yelled back as he grabbed a nearby dagger from his nightstand.

Salgant sneered. “Foolish Ecthelion, put down your filthy dagger from your disgusting hand.” Spit flew from the irate Elf’s mouth. “I see you have corrupted another one in your quest of perversion.”

Glorfindel, awakened by the commotion, ran down the hall and into Ecthelion's room with dread in his heart. “What is going on here?” He yelled.

Salgant turned around. “So, the Lord of the Fountain is here as well. Curiouser and curiouser this becomes.”

Glorfindel lunged for him but was stopped by four of Salgant's guards. “Unhand me now,” was the low growl from Glorfindel's throat, a very dangerous sound. The guards listened.

Erestor moved to stand next to Ecthelion, his tunic hastily clasped in the process. He held his chin high in defiance.

“I have no problem with you Lord Glorfindel….it is unfortunate that you are here.” Salgant trailed off.

“It is most fortuitous that I happen to be here, for I trust you not.” Glorfindel spat back.

Salgant laughed low, a rumbling sound that was a cross between thunder and contempt. “I have come here to see for myself what a trusted Elf has told me, one of your own household as well, Lord Ecthelion.”

Ecthelion’s eyes went wide and he stared in disbelief at the Elf before him. “Yes, look at me unbelieving if you so desire, but I assure you, there is at least one here that has nothing but disgust for you and I daresay…hate…at your disgusting behavior, your vile acts….”

In an instant Ecthelion had a hand around Salgant’s throat only to find himself being hit in the back of the head and pulled off by the guards in the room. Temporarily stunned, he slumped to the floor with Erestor immediately at his side. Salgant gulped at the venomous look given to him by Erestor.

An arrow nocked at his throat when trying to go to his friend’s aid, restrained Glorfindel. Just then another Elf walked into the room, it was Ecthelion’s most trusted servant, Tavor. An Elf he had grown up with. An Elf he trusted with his very household.

Tavor walked slowly up to Ecthelion and hit him across the face: blood flew from the cut he now sported in his lip. Erestor went to grab Tavor but found himself pulled back by his hair, forced to the floor with a harsh thud. “Tavor?” Ecthelion coughed in disbelief, questions in his eyes as he saw the hate shining back at him.

“You should be dead, not Torech!” Hissed the servant as Ecthelion visibly flinched at the name of his once lover. “I am his brother!” Again Tavor hit Ecthelion hard across his face. Erestor struggled against his captor; a growl emanating from deep within him at the sight of his beloved being treated so.

“Yes, my lord,” sneered Tavor with contempt, “you did not even know that he was my kin! All these long years I vowed to get you back for the death of my youngest brother, and when I saw you take this other innocent into your clutches, I could stand it no more! You cannot get away with your repulsive behavior. You corrupted my brother and…and he was the one to pay!” Tavor’s voice steadily rose to deafening levels as he spoke. Leaning forward to hit Ecthelion once more, he found his hand grabbed by Salgant. After all, he was only a servant and Ecthelion a lord….

“Enough!” Salgant yelled. After motioning for Tavor to leave, the door was closed and Salgant stood before the two lovers’ that were forced to the floor. “I have a proposition for you…” laughed Salgant, “actually, it is an order. Erestor will marry my niece Lothwen for I need to get rid of that burden set upon me, and Ecthelion, you will not go near him again. If I find you alone together, I will bring you both before Turgon, understood?”

“You may not order me about like a servant!” Ecthelion hissed as blood dripped anew from his reopened cut when he spoke.

“Oh, dear, perverse Ecthelion, “ laughed Salgant, “you are in no position to argue.” Here Salgant paused, “or you will see your lover dead.”

“I will never marry your niece!” Erestor argued.

“Oh silly elfling, you will do as I say or else your parents shall be childless.”

Salgant then turned his attentions to Glorfindel. “Tis really a pity you are here, but if you speak of this to anyone—I will declare you an aberration as well!” Glorfindel growled and started to protest until the point of the arrow pressed slightly into his throat.

“Well, now that all that is settled” smiled Salgant wickedly, “I shall tell Lothwen of her betrothal, and inform King Turgon of the upcoming nuptials. He does love a wedding ceremony.” With that Salgant went through the door before letting them go. He wasn’t stupid. The three watched as one by one the guards followed Salgant out, dagger looks were thrown to those once considered friends. Silence rent the air for there was nothing that could be done to change this situation. Nothing at all.

 

TBC….

 

 

Tavor- Woodpecker  
Torech- Lair  
Lothwen- Blossomed maiden


	8. A Fate Worse than Death

The servants opened the bedroom door as Erestor’s mother Eirien entered the room in King Turgon’s palace. This room where all male Elves dressed before this special occasion: even his father, Calimion, had.

The servants look wearied. They had sat around rearranging the garments and picking at invisible lint for hours now. Upon seeing her they stood, and one gestured towards the door to the bathing chamber. Standing close enough to whisper into Eirien’s ear, a very tall male-Elf told her that her son was presently holed up in that room. From the looks on their faces, she had suspected that this was a frequent occurrence of this day.

Knocking lightly upon the door, she heard her son call out, “Please, give me but a moment’s time,” in a defeated tone. A chill ran up Eirien’s spine at that sound.

“Erestor, my son….” The door clicked open a smidgen. Ignoring the servants she entered the chamber and quickly re-locked the door behind her. Turning, she saw her beautiful son slumped on the floor next to the door. “Oh, my dear child,” she gasped as she went to his side.

Quickly grabbing the waste bin next to him, his stomach tried to empty itself of its last trace of acidy fluid. Muscles tensing as he made the motions of retching, he found himself with a wet cloth pressed against his neck, the feeling cool and comforting. His long hair with its intricate ceremonial braids was lifted from his nape. Finally stopping, he was pulled into his mother’s embrace. He shook with sorrow even while he was comforted by her sweet presence.

“My child, Lothwen is a lovely maiden; she will make you a fine wife and mother to your offspring.”

Erestor sat up and leaned into the bin once more. Rubbing circles on his back, Eirien softly spoke. “Can you not pretend she is the one you love whilst you lay with her?”

Blushing slightly he shook his head no. “How can I do such a thing when I have never fully lain with the one whom I love; and who loves me truly? I have spent the night awake and being sick. I should leave Gondolin, surely there is some place on Arda that will accept me, accept us, for who we are?”

Eirien’s tears came unbidden for the pain of her only child and the burden he carried. Not once did she regret him; but often she wished his tastes were just a phase, but she knew better. Though not a woman of many words, she watched and listened. She prayed to the Valar every morn and night for her son’s safe keeping and she never told a soul of her son’s preferences, especially not to Calimion.

A loud knock interrupted them, “Please, mi-lord, you have but a half hour till the  
ceremony, you must get ready.” Desperation filled the servant’s voice.

“Come, my son, you must do this, you know this…there is no other way.”

“I cannot,” was the almost breathless reply.

The servants looked with relieved faces, as Erestor was led out the door by his mother. He was immediately dressed in his white overcoat with brocaded sleeves the color of snow. A golden shirt, white velvet leggings and gold house shoes completed the look. After tidying up his hair, the servants gazed upon their handiwork and frowned. The one in their care looked impeccably groomed and handsome, but his face was filled with such sorrow that they had to look away for fear of succumbing to its woe.

Hugging her son once more before they began the walk to the ceremonial hall, Eirien whispered tenderly as she leant him as much strength as she could spare, “Be strong my son.” Stepping back, she kissed his cheek as he seemed visibly calmer from her energy.

Together they walked the thankfully short distance to the hall. The servants opened the great doors as the room within fell quiet at seeing the groom and his mother enter. Erestor closed his eyes for a second and forced his breathing to slow so he could continue.

Lothwen, in a gown of white silk, stood next to her uncle, Salgant, who stood with King Turgon and Erestor’s father, Calimion. No one noticed Erestor’s step falter save two-his mother and Ecthelion, who was watching from the back of the gathered lords and ladies of the court. Ecthelion had closed his eyes and prayed to each Vala for a miracle to happen. As Erestor was lead to stand in front of their king with Lothwen at his side, Ecthelion filled with panic, stepping forward a fraction until he found himself immediately pulled back by Glorfindel. Glaring at Ecthelion, the Lord of the Golden Flower, kept his friend in check. “A scene is not what he needs- your support is,” was the hissed reply into Ecthelion’s ear. Ecthelion’s stance relaxed somewhat to Glorfindel’s relief.

‘I could rush up there and take him away, we could run away together,’ thoughts such as these rolled around Ecthelion’s head. Each thought to be defeated by a glance towards Salgant and the guarding warriors.

King Turgon, who personally married all nobility, smiled brightly at the two young Elves before him. Gesturing, he called the two forward. Taking Erestor’s hand, he placed Lothwen’s on top of it. She blushed and glanced at her soon-to-be-husband. He had yet to look in her direction. She could feel the tremors under his skin which was cool to the touch. Right then she knew that he had not agreed to this marriage and her heart sank.

She knew that her uncle wished to be rid of her; for in getting her married, he would receive the remains of her father’s fortune; such were the ways in Gondolin. Her needs were now to be provided for by her new husband… her unwilling husband.

“Today, we are gathered to witness the joining as husband and wife: Lothwen of the House of the Harp, with our newest counselor of the court, Master Erestor, son of Calimion the Archivist.” King Turgon spoke.

Erestor as well as most others were surprised by the news of his new position in the court. Calimion beamed with pride at his son while tears fell down Eirien’s face unhidden now. They were thought to be tears of joy by those who saw them. Erestor inclined his head to the king who smiled brightly back.

The king then joined their hands with a white slip of ribbon, turned them to face the crowd and pronounced the marriage. As customary, the crowd clapped as the new couple made their way to the dais at the end of the hall where stood two white stone chairs. The couple sat upon the chairs and only then was the ribbon removed. They would greet each guest invited, who would then present the newly married couple with gifts or monies to help bless the union. Erestor remained detached, as if he was viewing all of this through a foggy dream of which he hoped to awaken from soon.

Salgant was among the first to greet them. He made a show of opening a small chest filled with lots of jewelry, all of which were rightly hers anyway. She gave her thanks and he stood before Erestor. “You make her happy or else,” he teased, as those around him laughed. Erestor knew it was no joke at all.

His parents were next, giving her an heirloom bracelet of the richest emeralds and to their son, they gave him a jewel encrusted quill and inkpot. He knew this was all more than his parents could afford, and it saddened him further. As Eirien kissed both of Lothwen’s checks, she moved to do the same to her child. “Be strong my dear one,” she whispered into his ear. It took all his strength not to launch himself into his mother’s embrace.

They assembled quite the pile of gifts by the time Ecthelion, being led by Glorfindel, stood before the dais. Placing a jewel encrusted box by Lothwen’s feet, he then unexpectedly leaned forward and placed a kiss on her left cheek first-then to her right. “Be good to him,” he whispered to her startled eyes.

Erestor watched the scene with slight alarm; his pulse sped up upon the closeness of the one who held his heart. He could smell the scent of him, could feel those lips on his own, hands rough yet soft as silk against his skin…he almost crumbled at that very moment.

He saw his boots before his eyes moved upward to gaze into those of his beloved. The gaze was so intense that only a loud coughing by Glorfindel brought them back to the present: which was a loveless marriage surrounded by much of Gondolin’s elite as witnesses. Placing a jeweled dagger and scabbard upon Erestor’s lap, Ecthelion then placed a kiss upon his lover’s left check, only to do the same to his right. His hand grabbed at Erestor’s attempting to stop the shaking of his beloved. “Be strong my heart, fulfill your duty,” were the words whispered into his right ear. With the lingering of a finger, he was gone and through the crowd, heading towards the gardens while grabbing a flask of wine on his way out.

Glorfindel, not wanting Ecthelion’s actions to bring suspicion, responded in kind to the newly married couple with a kiss to each cheek, and then he turned to find his wounded friend.

King Turgon then pounded a staff upon the marble floor to gain the attention of all in attendance. He beckoned the couple to come forth. “The time has come for this coming together to be celebrated in your honor, go now, with the blessing of the Valar, and begin the joining of your union.” Erestor grew visibly paler…this is what he had dreaded the most. Lothwen blushed and together they were lead by the “Officiant of the Consummation” to the nuptial chambers. This was tradition, this was law. All married nobles before them had used these same traditions, these very rooms to consummate their marriages. Erestor’s eyes searched the crowd as he was led, with Lothwen holding onto the top of his hand, through the hall. Eventually his eyes fell on those of his mother and locked. She beheld the panic within her son’s eyes and nodded to him. ‘Be strong,’ she mouthed as he passed.

The Officiant opened the doors to the beautiful room. The palest of pinks and white silken sheers surrounded a large bed of similar hues. Candles lit all surfaces lending to the romance of the room. The scent of lavender permeated the very air. A small table was draped with white linen upon which sat a decanter of wine and two silver chalices. Small sweets and fruit accompanied the wine. A light breeze blew the sheer curtains of the windows inward as if trying to caress the room’s occupants. A bathing pool was filled in the adjacent room with steaming water; petals of roses, both pink and white, lazily floated upon the surface.

Erestor watched with a detached fascination as the Officiant placed an extra square of cloth upon the middle of the bed. Turning to the young couple she smiled and went to sit upon the chair outside the chambers until the time came for her to gather the cloth once more.

“Excuse me,” Erestor stammered as he went into the bathing room and closed the door behind him.

Lothwen sighed worriedly and did what she had been trained to do in the week prior to the wedding. She slipped off her wedding dress, laying it over the chair near the bed, and after combing out her hair, she lay upon the bed waiting for the return of her new husband. She was troubled that she did not please him, for she knew that she was rather plain for an Elf. And he ….well he was handsome indeed, she smiled to herself.

With his back against the door, Erestor tried to calm himself for the inevitable. He did not think he could do this. Nay, he knew that he could not. The words of his mother and Ecthelion reverberated through his thoughts and so with them as his courage, he entered the bedroom once more, only to stop at the sight before him. Lothwen lay naked upon the middle of the bed as every wife had done so before her. She had demurely crossed her legs and was sporting a blush that went to her ears.

With his leggings still on he sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Lothwen looked over at her new husband with sadness in her eyes. There was such an aura of despair enshrouding him that it pulled at her inner being. Sitting up, she placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder as he flinched. “I...I am sorry that I do not please you, my lord.”

Erestor stiffened, “No, no, you please me just fine, it is just that, that I didn’t…I don’t…”

“You didn’t agree to this, did you?” She whispered sadly.

He shook his head no. “My heart is not mine to give.” He closed a hand over his mouth as the words spilled forth.

“I am most unhappy for you in that case, my lord.”

“I am no lord; please call me by my name.”

“It seems we are in somewhat of a predicament then,” she sighed. “We must give them what they want my lor…Erestor, or surely there will be some retribution if we do not.” The last words she said were spoken shakily as if she were holding back a sob.

Erestor turned to look at her then, and his heart filled with compassion at the sight. She was as afraid as he was. “May I?” she asked unsteadily. His nod yes was barely visible.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his shyly. He closed his eyes and thought of Ecthelion. She tasted so very different from his love- though he had to admit that it was not unpleasant. They ended up lying upon the bed with Lothwen taking full control of the situation. She kissed her way down his chest, across a flat stomach to where hip met thigh. Rubbing across his groin over his leggings, she did her best to bring life to his flaccid member. He felt nauseous. He felt like he was cheating on Ecthelion.

Unexpectedly, she pulled down his leggings and engulfed his flaccidness in her mouth. He flinched but willed himself to think of his lover. He remembered the feel of Ecthelion’s mouth on him, the way he would look into his eyes and smile as he pleasured him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he began to harden to her touch. She wasted no time and with swift agility impaled herself upon his shaft. “Please, we must lie on the fabric,” she pleaded while trying to urge him to reverse their positions. Slowly they did so and as gravity took charge, Erestor penetrated her virginal barrier as she cried out from the pain. His eyes flashed open at the sound of her distress and seeing he was not with his beloved, he immediately lost his erection and hurried off of her. Stumbling due to the leggings still around his legs, he stopped only to pull them up and headed for the bathing room in a hurry. Shock passed across her face at his actions for this was not how things were supposed to be.

He grabbed a towel and rushed in the same manner back to her as whence he left. She was in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, crying softly. Handing her the towel, she sniffed a ‘thank you’ to him. A knock at the door soon followed. Panic filled their eyes as they looked at the door in unison. Handing her a robe, he ushered her to the bathroom while calling for the Officiant to enter. She walked in, immediately going for the square of cloth. After holding it up and examining it, she nodded then folded it up to be stored as was done to all before them. Not glancing back, the Officiant strode out of the room, her heels clanking down the hall. Cheers were then heard as the music began to play merrily for the feasting to begin.

Lothwen appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. She had bathed and was wearing a beautiful silk nightdress with a matching robe. Erestor handed her a chalice of wine that she accepted eagerly. “All is well?” she asked him shyly. He nodded yes and gestured for her to sit in the opposite chair.

“I am sorry Lothwen, I…this is so hard for me. I know you are wronged by having me as a husband, but I will do my best to care for you as you should be.” His eyes never faltered from hers and she could see that he was an honorable Elf and that he would do as he said.

“Perhaps we could become friends.” She hoped, knowing she could not expect more.

“Yes, that would please me; and again, I am so sorry that you had to wed me.” He gently placed a hand upon hers, sadness in his eyes. This would become a look she would come to know well in him.

“I am not sorry, for to be friends would be more than many dare to hope for within a marriage such as ours.”

“You are kind, my lady.”  
………………………….

At the entrance of the Officiant and her nod of approval, the guests cheered and lost in the crowd, Eirien sighed with relief. In the gardens Ecthelion cursed and emptied the bottle he had been imbibing in as a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. Turning his head, thinking it was Glorfindel, Ecthelion started at the sight of Salgant. “Lord Ecthelion, it seems your lover has gotten over you quite quickly.” The Lord of the Harp laughed wickedly.

Ecthelion leapt for him but was held back by Glorfindel and just in time. “He is not worth it,” Glorfindel spat towards Salgant who just laughed and walked back towards the hall.

“Let go of me, Glorfindel!”

“No, not until you calm yourself. Erestor has not betrayed you, he did what was needed to survive, it is what you wanted, is it not?”

Ecthelion sighed and shook his head yes as he turned to face his friend and fellow lord he spoke with utter despair, “I feel my heart has been ripped from me.”

Glorfindel led him to a bench to calm down. Neither spoke but sat side–by-side as the festivities roared on in the background.

 

TBC………

Lothwen- Blossomed maiden  
Eirien - Daisy  
Calimion- Bright son


	9. The Plan

Three months passed since the wedding of Erestor and Lothwen. They now resided within King Turgon’s Palace; as Erestor was now an advisor to the king. It was quite awkward for the two to live together. They were strangers who were thrown together to live as husband and wife. Erestor, thankfully, had much to do and was often in his little office or meeting with the other advisors or the king. Lothwen occupied herself with decorating their rooms and having lunches with the other advisor’s wives. She played the dutiful wife outside their rooms perfectly.

They had many dinners to attend as a couple as well. Such was one of the duties of an advisory position. Erestor was always polite to his wife and treated her with the utmost respect whether they were in public or in their own quarters. That is where the husbandly duties stopped: though they share a bed for sleeping; that was all that was done in it. And often Erestor could be found come morning, sound asleep on the couch in the sitting room, especially after a long night doing all the tasks awarded to the newest advisory council member-all the work no one else wanted to do, that is.

During the weekly meetings with the lords of the houses, the lovers were tortured by their inability to speak to one another unless it was called for. Ever the watchful eye of Salgant looked on, reveling in the anguish of the fated two. He liked nothing more than to see Ecthelion despair.

Preparations were being made for the feast of the First Day of Summer. This was a tradition in Gondolin. One that all in Gondolin gleefully awaited each year. There was much dancing and feasting in the city. From sunset to sunrise they celebrated the arrival of the warm weather, a renewal of the soul. Gone was the harshness of the winter months. Erestor was in the thick of the planning, running errands between the Houses; he was in charge of seeing that each House contributed in some form to the festivities. Though this task was often a hard and thankless one that was thrust upon the youngest council member, Erestor did it with joy for he knew that he would have to visit the House of the Fountain on official business and in doing so, would be able to lay eyes upon the one who held his heart.

Erestor had taken extra care of his appearance that morn. His hair shone brightly and hung loose over his shoulders to fall towards the small of his back. He dressed in blue leggings and matching tunic over a crisp white shirt. His cloak of blue was held in place by the clasp that was given to all advisors to show their station. His step was light as he opened the gates that led to the House of the Fountain. Knocking upon the door, he felt his pulse speed up in anticipation of seeing his love once more. His heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and a servant answered. “I have a meeting with Lord Ecthelion, is he within?”

“Aye, come in and wait and I will get him.” The servant walked down the hall and disappeared into a side door.

Looking up at the sound of sure footsteps, Erestor smiled fondly at the sight of Ecthelion walking down the hall. He wore brown leggings and a loosely laced green shirt that matched the hue of his eyes, which were now sparkling in delight and desire.

“Master Erestor, whatever is the reason for the pleasure of your visit?” Ecthelion tried to control the excitement in his voice.

“I am in need of your contribution for the feast, my lord.” He half bowed in respect.

“Please, come into my study,” Ecthelion gestured for him to go down the hall. Passing by him, Ecthelion closed his eyes breathing in the scent of his love.

After closing the door behind them, the lovers fell into a long suffered for embrace. Ecthelion rained kisses upon Erestor’s head and face and neck, until finally their lips met in a sensual kiss of their suppressed desires. Moaning rent the air as their bliss was palpable-the room alive with it. “I’ve missed you so much,” Erestor spoke between heated kisses.

“I ache for you each night and long for you every day,” Ecthelion answered as he held Erestor’s face in his hands while staring deeply into his eyes.

“I’ve made plans for us, a way out of this mess, do you trust me?”

“With all that I am,” Erestor answered without wavering.

“The night of the feast, we shall leave Gondolin, you and I, take only what you need, I will take as much as we will need to live, together we will leave here and make a life for ourselves.” Ecthelion kissed Erestor deeply. “We will pass over the mountains and follow the river, all will be well.”

“What of my mother? Of Glorfindel...” questioned Erestor.

“That is a sacrifice we must make to be together.” Ecthelion stroked those high cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Lothwen?” Erestor worried.

“Leave her the wedding gifts, it will take care of her, none can take them away from her.”

Erestor nodded, “I will follow you wherever you go.”

Regretfully pulling away, Ecthelion took a pouch from his desk drawer and handed it to Erestor. “For the feast.” He smiled and kissed Erestor sweetly, pouring all the love he felt for him into that single kiss. Erestor shuddered in response, his body awakening to the desires Ecthelion brought out in him. Feeling Erestor’s reaction to their kiss, Ecthelion went down on his knees and quicker than Erestor could imagine, he had Erestor’s leggings down past his newly freed arousal. Ecthelion then engulfed his hardness in that incredibly soft and warm mouth of his. Grabbing the back of the chair for support, Erestor moaned heavily and immediately came into his lover’s eager mouth. Ecthelion drank of him as if it were nectar, an elixir of his love. He left not a drop on his lover’s body and as he stood he raised Erestor’s leggings back in place, effectively tying them as well.

Knowing that Ecthelion must be in the same state that he himself was in but a moment before, Erestor started to move to his knees but Ecthelion stayed him. “My love,” he took Erestor’s hand and moved it to the front of his leggings which were quite wet, “I have already spent because of your passions.”

Erestor smiled and rubbed Ecthelion’s groin, slipping a hand inside only to bring it back up to his lips and eagerly licking his fingers of his lover’s spilled essence. Ecthelion growled at the sight. “Now off with you, before we are found. In three nights we shall no longer have to hide our love.” Ecthelion kissed him passionately once again. Erestor smiled giddily as he went out the door.

His smile soon faded as he went to the last of the Houses on his list. The House of the Harp. After being let into the sitting room by a servant, Erestor started as Salgant snuck into the room from a secret door. Standing as was customary, Erestor half-bowed to the Lord of the Harp. “My, my, my, if it isn’t my law-nephew, whatever brings you here?”  
Salgant walked over to his desk and sat upon the edge, his right leg swinging back and forth.

“My lord, I come on behalf of the Feast of Summer. I am to inquire as to your plans in participation of the event?” Erestor found it hard to meet the lord’s gaze. He was afraid Salgant could see the hate in his eyes for him.

“You are hmnn, and are you perchance going to the House of the Disgusting Filth of the Fountain?” sneered the uncle of his wife.

“My lord, I have been there this morn.”

“Alone?” Sneered Salgant.

“Aye, my lord,” Erestor whispered.

“Tsk, tsk, counselor. Did I not tell you to stay away from him?” He yelled.

“My lord, it was official business, it was my duty.” Erestor did his best to remain calm on the outside.

“Hmnn, that may very well be, but if I find out that you are with him ever again, I shall bring you and your repulsive lover before the very king!” Salgant had inched his way over towards Erestor who was eying the door warily.

Salgant delighted in Erestor’s discomfort in his presence. “I trust my niece is well?” He asked without any true caring as he threw a few coins Erestor’s way. Mere pittance compared to what the other Houses had contributed. Erestor stood and collected the few coins.

“Lothwen is well, my lord.” Erestor stood and bowed. “I bid you good day and thank you for your gift.”

Salgant turned around but called out before Erestor was able to leave. “So, when will you beget an heir?” Salgant sniggered as Erestor faltered for but a second, and then he continued out of that house as fast as he could.

 

TBC.....


	10. And All Falls

Excitement filled the air around him, although the night was bittersweet for Erestor. Finally he would be united with the one who owned his heart; yet he would leave behind all he ever knew and those he cared for. Checking his pocket once more, he was comforted by the bag of money and gems that Ecthelion had given him to keep for their journey. He added a dagger to his belt as his final act of dressing for the night’s festivities-the very dagger that Ecthelion had given him as a gift upon his wedding to Lothwen.

Lothwen. There was a note to be delivered to her upon the stroke of midnight. In it was an explanation of his departure and of all the wealth he and Ecthelion decided to leave her. Lothwen walked into their sitting room dressed in a gown of lightest blue, her hair arranged in an intricate weave of braids and pearls. Erestor offered his arm to her as they left their chambers to head to the celebration. “You look lovely this night, Lothwen,” he told her with sincerity into her eyes. She blushed and smiled back at her husband in name only.

Across the city, Ecthelion prepared to leave his home for the last time. Memories assaulted him as he looked fondly at his belongings. Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against the carved wooden door and sighed; Erestor’s visage before him gave him the resolve to go on. As he took one step down his path towards his new life, the great horns sounded loudly: not in celebration as expected, but in distress. ‘How could this be?’ thought Ecthelion until he saw guards running down the road, with some stopping before him. “My Lord Ecthelion,” breathed a guard heavily, his eyes wild with fear. “We are under attack!”

Ecthelion began yelling orders and ran into his house to the armory. He was hastily helped into his armor, his spiked helm forced upon his head. He met with Turgon and the other House Chieftains for a quick war council. Erestor, along with the other advisors, were in attendance as well. Tuor called for all to break the siege, but Salgant convinced them to stay and fight, since he was enamored of Maeglin, and unfortunately Turgon did not want to give up his idealist city. ¹ And so to war they went.

Ecthelion looked towards Erestor with untold emotions in his eyes as their gazes locked. “Take all that you can and flee through Idril’s passage.” Ecthelion shouted as Glorfindel took hold of his arm to lead him to their posts.

“Nay, I too will fight! I am a warrior!” Erestor yelled back.

Ecthelion pulled out of Glorfindel’s grip. “That is why they will need you! You have to help those who can escape, Erestor! Do not be fools like us!” With that he was gone down the palace steps and into the market square.

Erestor did as he was told, following Tuor and Idril’s lead. He could only hope that his family escaped as they lived near the breaching wall. Lothwen helped Idril care for any elflings in the tunnel that led to their present destination upon the narrow pass of the Cristhorn. There, Glorfindel met up with his infamous demise, bringing safety to all with his selfless end.

 

Imladris, 1700 Second Age

 

Lothwen awoke to the sounds of screams. She entered Erestor’s bedroom to see him panting heavily, sweat rolling off of him. Tendrils of ebony hair stuck to his moist chest; which was heaving with each breath he took. Wild eyes looked at her in fear. “Shhhh, tis alright, my lord. You are safe. It is but a dream.” She soothed her husband of over a millennia. He clung to the front of her nightdress, resting his head under her chin.

 

Comforting him, she rocked back and forth until he fell into a deep sleep once more. When he would awaken, he would not remember any of it. It was this way since Imladris became besieged by Sauron’s forces, causing them to defend their newly founded home, led by Gil-Galad’s herald and Idril’s grandsire, Elrond. It forced memories that lay hidden back to the forefront of his mind; memories of Gondolin’s fall and of all that they had left behind.

 

“Nana?” came the small voice from the open doorway. “Is Ada sick?”

 

“No, my son, he has just had a bad dream,” Lothwen proceeded to usher their child back to his bed. His long brown hair tousled from sleep around his small frame.

 

Stopping in the sitting room suddenly, the elfling turned to his mother, “May I go sleep with Ada? Maybe it will stop him from having bad dreams?” Their son adored his father, for Erestor was a doting parent who cherished the gift of life that was granted them.

He spent as much time with Melpomean as he could, teaching him and playing with him whenever duty did not keep him from his son. Lothwen smiled and escorted her son back to Erestor’s room. She watched fondly as Melpomean climbed in next to Erestor, his small hands pulling the sheet over the both of them. She noted that even deep in sleep, Erestor seemed to be comforted by his very presence. His countenance took on a peaceful look of slumber.

 

Returning to her room, Lothwen sat upon a chair that faced the balcony. The night, clear and crisp, twinkled with the light of stars. So calm and peaceful-so unlike the attacks their vale had suffered from of late. Pulling her legs up under her, she threw a blanket over her lap and thought of the night she asked Erestor for a child….

 

… She had never been so afraid or so sure of anything in her life. She came to Erestor as he sat behind his desk in Lindon twenty-six years ago. Nervously she had wrung her hands, her throat suddenly going dry. Looking up from his paperwork, he smiled and asked her what was wrong. Of course he would be able to tell, she had thought, he was an advisor for a reason. Standing in front of the desk now, she sighed heavily. “I…I… have been thinking of late and have come to an important decision.” Intrigued, he put down his quill and gave her his full attention. It was not every day that she spoke thusly. She was not a frivolous she-Elf and was content with what life had given her.

 

“I wish to have a child,” she stammered out but kept her eyes fixed on his.

 

“You wish to adopt?” He asked with a questioning furrow to his brow.

 

“No, I um, I wish to have a child with you.” She watched for any sign of disgust from Erestor.

 

“May I have time to contemplate all of this, since it is so sudden to me?” He asked her with sincerity.

 

“Aye, my lord, as long as you wish.” She bowed her head and left, a smile lighting her face. ‘He did not say no,’ she told herself with hope.

Erestor fell back against his chair as she left. Long slender hands running through silken midnight locks. ‘A child?’ His thoughts raced. ‘I did not think it possible.’ Then his face paled at the implication. Of the act it precipitated. Could he do this? Would he be able to?

It had been millennia since he even took himself in hand. Not since Gondolin. Not since Ecthelion…he closed his eyes as a single tear fell upon his lap.

He had grown to love Lothwen. She was a wonderful friend. They had helped one another through the grief of The Fall. They had built a life together; even though they were separate, they still shared a life. To all they were as any other married pair of Elves. In their quarters they lived as friends to the mutual benefit of both. So it was with logical thinking that he decided to grant her request. He knew she would make a wonderful mother and she needed to love as much as he did.

And so it was that twenty years ago, Lothwen gave birth to their only child: a son they named Melpomean. He was light of both his parent’s lives. She remembered with fondness the night that Erestor had finally lain with her. They were both so nervous, so unsure of the act in itself. To her delight as she opened herself to receive his seed, he treated her with kindness, tenderness and affection. She felt loved. Her eyes watched as his face contorted in ecstasy as he came with the slightest of moans; and so began the little life inside her.

Smiling, she fell into an easy sleep.

………….

 

News arrived that Gil-Galad and Cirdan had come by river to aid to Imladris in her moment of need, thus ending the siege upon her borders. With them, they brought someone who was to become an important part of all their lives; to Imladris and to the House of Elrond, a certain warrior of old, Glorfindel of Gondolin.

 

TBC……

 

 

1\. Based upon information at http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Fall_of_Gondolin


	11. Staring at the Past

Erestor walked the long corridors of his home. He would know the paths blindfolded. A messenger had delivered a note to his quarters this very morn. Wondering who the important Elf was who had come to Imladris so early in the day occupied Erestor’s thoughts and soon he found himself in front of Elrond’s office doors. Knocking softly, Erestor entered after being bade welcome by his lord. Stepping across the threshold, he found Elrond handing a glass of wine to…”Glorfindel?” Erestor questioned aloud as his heart began thumping against his ribcage. Glorfindel smiled wide as Erestor called his name.

“Is... Are you alone?” Erestor asked in a panic. His face began to flush as his eyes scanned the simple yet elegant room that Elrond called his own. Glorfindel knew who he was looking for and regretted having to be the one to bring the news.

“I have been returned…alone.” This he quietly replied into Erestor’s questing eyes.

Both watched as the color drained from the chief advisor’s face while a look of sheer disillusionment flashed across those sharp features for but a moment- Erestor then schooled himself, gaining control once more. Elrond went to his side in concern, “I know this may be a shock to you, Erestor. Glorfindel told me that you knew each other in Gondolin. Please, sit.” He gestured a robed arm towards a velvet-brocaded chair.

“No, please, I am well. Just taken aback, my lord.” Erestor tried to convince all in the room. “Welcome to Imladris, Lord Glorfindel. We are indeed honored to have you with us.” Here Erestor bowed his head with his hand over his heart in greeting. “How long shall we be graced with your presence?”

“I am here to serve the House of Elrond and thereby all of Imladris as well.” Glorfindel replied warily at the obvious unease that Erestor was now in.

“A gift from the Valar,” Elrond smiled.

“Yes…. a gift.” Erestor did his best to smile.

A house-elf stuck his head through the door after knocking, “My Lord Elrond? You wished to be notified when the blacksmith came?”

“Yes, forgive me, I shall be but a moment.” He excused himself to follow the Elf into the hall.

Uncomfortable silence filled the air between the two. “I am most pleased to see you alive and well, Erestor, I truly am.” Glorfindel strode over and gave Erestor a quick hug.

“I am pleased that you are here with us, though my heart is remembering much with seeing your visage, my lord.” Erestor spoke truthfully. Suddenly the pain was there with such a passion that he visibly swayed on his feet; the room began spinning around him by the way of a potency that so surprised him that he had to put the fingers of his right hand on his forehead in a sign of distress. Glorfindel came to his aid, helping him to a nearby chair. Quickly pouring a glass of wine, he handed it to the counselor who gently refused it with a gentle shove.

“Did you see him in the Halls of Waiting?”

Glorfindel crouched before him, putting a strong hand on his knee “I remember nothing but peace, and then I was called before a bright light, a light brighter than our sun, and a voice told me that I was to be returned and spoke of my purpose for being permitted to.”

Elrond had stopped at the door not wanting to intrude at the intimate scene before him. Though as Lord of Imladris, it was in his duty to know what was happening in his realm of rule. Unbeknownst to both, he stood steadfast at the door, listening intently.

“Why was he not returned?” whispered Erestor as he stared into cerulean eyes.

“I do not know,” Glorfindel answered truthfully. “When I was in the halls there was only peace, as if I slept a dreamless sleep. And then I was returned.”

“Do…do you think he was sent to Valinor?”

“Eventually all first born are, or so it is written.” Glorfindel gently squeezed Erestor’s knee as he stood, sensing movement at the door.

“I know why,” Erestor spoke as his chin trembled in his effort to control his emotions, “It is because we are revolting to the very Valar themselves.”

“Erestor, how can you say a thing as this?” Glorfindel raised his voice slightly, refusing to believe such a transgression.

Elrond entered the room in concern. “Is everything well?” He asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Both replied too eagerly.

Elrond cocked his head to the side and in his most unbelieving voice said, “Indeed.” His eyebrow raised in sincere doubt.

“Please, excuse me Lord Elrond. If there is nothing more at the moment that requires my attention, I would like to start my day.” Erestor could not look into Elrond’s eyes, but found the hem of his robe quite interesting to study.

“Very well,” sighed Elrond in disgust. “You shall see to Lord Glorfindel’s quarters, after the morning meal.”

“Aye, my lord, thank you.” He nodded his head in respect to both as he retreated to the safety of the corridors once more.

Elrond looked to Glorfindel for an explanation of the exchange he both witnessed and overheard. “Counselor Erestor had a sincere friendship with Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain and I am afraid that he finds it hard that he was not returned as I was.” Glorfindel offered truthfully without having to reveal the reality of the friendship itself. This seemed to satisfy Elrond who proceeded to show Glorfindel the way to the dining hall.

Erestor walked quickly through the winding halls after exiting Lord Elrond’s office. Passing his own, he continued until he reached his destination: the highest turret in Imladris, a watchtower of sorts that had the most panoramic view of their beautiful vale. He knew it would be abandoned at this hour for the Elf who held watch this day was often late to his task. He breathed deeply as the smells of baking bread mingled with the freshness of the dewy forest pine. The rush of the closest and largest waterfall thundered into his ears; its only competition the pounding of his heartbeat. He let out a yell that sent nearby birds taking to the skies due to this rude interruption of their early morning routines. “Why is this happening? Why was Glorfindel returned?” He yelled into the dawning sky, to the very Valar themselves. “Is this punishment for my sins? Do you not have a heart?” He punched that last word out on his own chest as he sank to his knees while the wind whipped his hair painfully against his face. He cried tears long shed that he thought would never surface again.

The dining hall was a clatter of utensils and conversation. Lothwen took interest in taking away the honey from Melpomaen’s hand as he drizzled one too many helpings onto his porridge. Noticing the room go silent, Lothwen looked up to investigate only to see Lord Elrond clanking a spoon against a glass gently. Lothwen slowly stood as she saw the one standing next to her lord. “Nana? What is wrong?” Melpomaen asked seeing his mother’s hands start to shake as she dropped the honey spoon in the process.

“We have been blessed in Imladris. Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin has been returned to us by the Valar….” Elrond could not finish his speech because Lothwen, in seeing Lord Glorfindel, slid to the floor in a lifeless heap of swishing robes.

“Nana!” yelled Melpomaen as he leapt to his mother’s side. Elrond rushed to her aid, as did Glorfindel.

As Elrond gently smacked Lothwen’s face, Glorfindel poured ice water from a pitcher onto a cloth napkin and put it to the back of her neck. The shock of it brought her back from the feint only to stare into the worried eyes of her son. Strong arms helped her to a sitting position while Elrond wiped her face with the same cloth. “Forgive my insensitivity, Lothwen, for in my excitement I forgot the shock this would be to those who once dwelt within Gondolin’s walls.” Elrond was truly sorry for his lack of decorum, offering her to lean against him as Glorfindel held her back. Turning, she winced as she looked once more at the face of the handsome Lord of the Golden Flower, her hair being pulled tightly.

“Nana? My fingers are stuck!” Melpomaen struggled to free his honey-coated fingers from within his mother’s chestnut-hued hair. Unable to control her varying emotions, Lothwen broke out into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation she was finding herself in. Glorfindel and Elrond soon followed in her mirthful musings as Melpomaen struggled even more to free his fingers.

“May I?” Glorfindel asked as he gestured to the small hands. Lothwen smiled her yes as he carefully pried the wedged fingers away from her silken hair, one by one. The smell of Jasmine intermingled with the scent of the honey reached his nose as he breathed deeply of the sweet perfume as he averted his eyes from the swell of her heaving bosom. A blush soon reached Lothwen’s face caused by both the absurdity of the situation and the closeness of the returned Lord.

Erestor composed once more, walked past the delayed guard while descending the winding stone steps of the turret. He made a mental note to speak to Elrond about the guard’s tardiness in the future. Upon entering the dining hall, he was there to witness the scene as it ended. Melpomaen, upon seeing his father, ran to Erestor, “Ada! Nana fell over like she was sleeping!” Gathering his son into his arms, he walked over to Lothwen in concern.

“Are you well?” He asked.

“Yes, I feinted tis all.” She blushed.

“Ada, you should have seen it! Then I got my fingers stucked in Nana’s hair.”

This time it was Glorfindel’s turn to be shocked. “Ada?” he questioned into Erestor’s eyes, disbelief in his voice quite evident as to his doubt at the situation. Erestor glared back defensively.

“Lord Glorfindel may I present my son, Melpomaen.” Melpomaen smiled shyly then hid his face into his father’s neck as Erestor held him lovingly. This time Glorfindel was the one in shock at the situation.

 

TBC…..


	12. Imladris, 1700 Second Age

"He avoids me." Glorfindel sighed heavily; watching once more as Erestor quickly exited the counsel chambers after the morning's meeting. Elrond patted one of Glorfindel's shoulders in a sympathetic gesture as he too walked by the returned Elf.

"Have you tried to confront him?" Elrond nodded at the Elves who were also exiting the chamber.

"Yes, but he always politely excuses himself from my presence to go to some unseen event of extreme import." Glorfindel took up his papers while following Elrond out into the hall.

Walking together until they stopped before Elrond's office, Elrond turned to him once more. "Perhaps Lothwen would be helpful to you?" He then excused himself to enter his doorway.

"Perhaps," was the unbelieving reply.

"I wish you the best," nodded Elrond in sympathy as he shut the door behind him.

"Humph," was the muttered reply.

Resuming his path towards the training fields, Glorfindel was deep in thought as he walked the familiar grounds before him. He was unaware of the beauty surrounding him: the flowers in bloom with their heady fragrance or the butterflies fluttering around them to drink of the sensuous nectar. The sound of an elfling giggling, however, stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to follow the sound only to see Melpomaen chasing after dandelion seeds that his mother blew forth from their protective casing. The white fuzzy seedlings tickled the little one's nose and caught in his hair so that it looked speckled with white. Lothwen was laughing along with her son; enjoying his sweet innocence and exuberance for life.

Melpomaen ran Glorfindel's way after an errant and quite hard to catch seedling exuded his grasp, and in doing so banged sideways into the warrior's leg and promptly fell back onto his behind. As a pout began to form on his sweet face, he looked up to see it was Glorfindel whose hand began to help him up, and he immediately stopped his near pout. "There you go. You're all right." smiled Glorfindel as Melpomaen offered his shy thanks and took off once more after another espied target.

Lothwen came forward, still smiling as she inquired as to Lord Glorfindel's leg. Her face was flushed from her laughter, and the swell of her heaving breasts drew his eyes like a moth to a flame. Glorfindel respectfully looked away but not before his eyes took in the loveliness of the ellith before him. "Lady Lothwen," he bowed his head in greeting.

"Lord Glorfindel," she smiled, "I do hope you were not injured by my son's antics."

"Nay, my lady. I find them refreshing and delightful." He answered with sincerity into her lovely green eyes."I wonder if I could take but a moment of your time?"

"Of course, my lord, how may I help you?" She smiled as Glorfindel led her to a stone bench where she could still keep an eye open for her exuberant child.

"I do believe that my presence here in Imladris is more than disturbing to Erestor."

Lothwen sighed and spoke truthfully, "I have noticed as much, my lord, I do believe it pains him to see you, for he misses Ecthelion deeply..." here her eyes grew distant as if in deep thought. "I know that he and Lord Ecthelion were...close..." she paused discreetly while waiting for his reaction.

"You knew?" Glorfindel whispered not daring to speak the words aloud. The old laws were still vivid in his mind, along with the penalties they brought.

"One does not live long with someone and not come to know of their heart's desires." She answered in kind.

"He spoke of this?"

"Nay, my lord, he did not have to." She whispered while smiling at her son who was waving at her from a short distance.

"You are wise, dear lady, and kind." He smiled at her adding, "And please, call me Glorfindel."

"Only if you call me by my name," she smiled as she stood, brushing off her lilac colored dress.

Glorfindel smiled back, a slight blush to his handsome face. He clicked his heels together and half bowed to her. "Good day, Lothwen."

"Good day, Glorfindel." She blushed and left to retrieve her son.

As Lothwen turned to their son, Glorfindel stood his ground and watched her leave for some moments before he continued on with his desired path.

Unbeknownst to the three below, Erestor stood at the balcony window to his office, watching the scene before him in the field. His hand instinctively went to his stomach as he suddenly felt the spread of jealousy begin within.

 

Erestor sat heavily upon his chair. He was deep in thought. He held his head in his hands while resting his elbows on the ancient polished oak of his desk. Why was he feeling naught but ill towards the returned Glorfindel? He had not wronged him. In truth, he had been a friend not only to Ecthelion, but to himself as well. He stood by them when Salgant came to task. He deserved nothing but respect from Erestor, so why could he not give it to him.

The pain of losing Ecthelion began to eat away at his resolve since Glorfindel returned to serve their home...his home..."Ada..Ada, ADA!" Erestor's head whipped up from its resting position as his son tugged hard at his robed sleeve.

"Were you sleeping, ada?" asked a flush-faced Melpomaen as Erestor opened his arms gesturing for his son to climb onto his lap. Erestor kissed the sun-warmed head and breathed in the smell of sunshine that surrounded his son from his play outside. Lothwen had followed Melpomaen into her husband's office as well.  
"I was not sleeping; just lost in thought," Erestor replied as he kissed his son's head once more.

Melpomaen seemed satisfied with that answer and opened the top drawer of his father's desk where there was kept an ever ready supply of parchment and a few hard candies that Melpomaen favored. Taking out a candy, he asked Erestor to open it for him, which he promptly did.

"Ada, we played catch the seedlings! Nana blew them all over the field and she said that maybe one day a tree will grow where it fell! Wouldn't that be ever so wonderful?" Erestor grinned at his son's enthusiasm for every small thing in life.

"That would indeed be wonderful." Erestor smiled. Melpomaen then leaned back against his father's chest, all the while swinging his foot to and fro.

"You must come and wash up before dinner, Melpomaen." Lothwen gestured for him to come to her.

"And you must study your lessons as well," added Erestor.

"I will, ada. Bye." Melpomaen turned around, grabbed Erestor's face with his sticky hands, and placed an equally sticky and quite wet kiss upon his father's cheek.

Making a face, Erestor wondered how one piece of candy could make one little elfling such a sticky mess.

Lothwen smiled her goodbye as their son skipped by her and out into the hall towards their quarters.

"Lothwen?" Erestor called after her.

"Yes, my lord?" she turned her attentions back to her husband.

"Do you regret this marriage?" Erestor asked, looking deep into her eyes.

Taken aback by such an abrupt question, Lothwen became visibly upset and knew not how to answer him. "M-my lord, may we speak of this at another time? I fear our son shall get into naught but mischief unless I follow him."

"Of course," Erestor whispered, "of course."

Lothwen nodded, "Thank you." Then she disappeared through the doorway. Her hurried steps could be heard echoing down the hall.

While bathing Melpomaen, Lothwen sat in a chair near the tub while her son played with his wooden boats. Her mind was adrift in the replaying of her day. That question from Erestor was wearisome...she had never thought such a thing before. Her life was what it was. As it always had been. She was ever dutiful and ever grateful for everything she had. Her life with Erestor was safe and quiet. She had no doubts that she had love for him, and he for her. Though that love was not a romance, it was comfortable and respectful; a love between friends. That they shared a child together was a blessing to both, of this she had no doubt. Lately, however, she had begun to feel different around the reborn Glorfindel. She felt alive! And she felt lust, of that she was most sure. Around him she felt like a blushing maiden and this new feeling she liked... very much so. The attention she was receiving from Glorfindel was invigorating. She knew she was plain for an Elf-maid, but around him she felt beautiful and desirable and very much married. She suddenly startled as water was splashed her way, quickly bringing her out of her musings and into the present.

"Okay, little fish, out you go!" She picked him up and wrapped him in a warm fluffy towel, trying to dry his hair. He easily wiggled out of her grasp and ran naked into the other room and straight into his father's legs. Erestor pretended to glare at him but failed to do so as Melpomaen fell into a fit of laughter with Erestor quickly joining him.

"Really, you two." Lothwen shook her head with her hands on her hips which only served to cause father and son to laugh even more. Erestor picked up the squirming child and proceeded to take him to his bedroom to dress him in time for dinner.

Neither spoke again of the question put forth by Erestor that day...not until a time many years later...

 

TBC....


	13. Revelation

“Father?” The voice that spoke had the dulcet tones of a confident Elf. His appearance itself was quite soothing to the eye: a face that spoke of kindness, loyalty, and ease with one’s self. His eyes sparkled with life and joy. This Elf was someone that made all who came into his presence feel comfortable. It was of no surprise then, when Melpomaen was appointed seneschal of Imladris: An appointment that suited him well. It only added to the hospitality that was renown to all who entered the fair vale of Imladris.

Erestor looked up from his seated position behind his desk, and smiled at his only child. “Yes, Melpomaen?”

“An envoy from Lothlórien has arrived with guard. He has a message for Lord Elrond. Since Lord Elrond is presently unavailable, I thought you would be best able to meet with him, straight away?”

“Of course, will you take me to him?” Erestor stood and walked to his son’s side whilst speaking. After planting a small kiss of greeting on Melpomaen’s cheek, father and son walked together through the hall, robes silently flowing behind them, until they reached the reception room’s doorway.

Within stood two Elves, one the Counselor Celvandil, of whom Erestor was well acquainted: the other a tall, broad shouldered Galadhrim, wearing the familiar uniform of the guard of the Golden Wood. Bearing in mind that Melpomaen had seen to the visitor’s comforts correctly, Erestor smiled with pride. The two guests put down their drinks to greet the Chief Advisor of Imladris.

“Well met, Celvandil,” Erestor gave the usual greeting to the envoy from Lothlorien. Celvandil responded in kind.

“How long shall we have the pleasure of your company?” Erestor asked easily.

“As long as it takes for my missive to be completed.” Celvandil smirked, then added, “Oh, wherever are my manners, Lord Celeborn would have my head, this is Haldir, Captain of the Galadhrim, and my steadfast protector on the roads between our realms. “

Haldir greeted Erestor with the same familiar salutation between all elvenkind. “It is an honor to meet you, my lord.” Haldir inclined his head without taking his eyes off of Erestor’s.

“Well met, Marchwarden Haldir, may your stay here within our vale bring you much comfort.” Erestor inclined his head.

“Thank you.” Haldir replied with a voice as smooth as honey: A voice that sent a small shiver down Erestor’s spine. A sensation that Erestor had learned to immediately douse after all his years of chastity.

“If you would, Seneschal Melpomaen will show you to your quarters?” Erestor offered with the wave of an elegant hand towards his son. “Unless your visit is of the up- most importance?”

“It is of import, Counselor Erestor, though not so much that we can not rest first.” Celvandil answered.

“Very well, we shall meet again at dinner and convene in Lord Elrond’s study after we have dined. Do you have a need of an escort to find your way to the hall?”

“No, no, I do remember the way.” Celvandil nodded as he gestured towards Melpomaen to lead them to their quarters.

“Please, if you would follow me,” Melpomaen smiled while he held the door open for the two visitors from the Golden Wood.

“If you have need of anything at all, do not hesitate to call upon myself or any…” Melpomaen’s voice faded as the Elves walked down the hall and Erestor resumed his way to his office. Rounding the corner, he stopped to gaze out the open windows to watch the activity in the gardens below. He smiled fondly at the sound of the laughter of elflings chasing each other. He adored the time he had shared with Melpomaen while he was a child and felt blessed to have him in his life. As his eyes scanned the trees, he caught a glimpse of shimmering blue silk flashing like a bright sky against a canvas of green. It was Lothwen and she was speaking with …Glorfindel…who was leaning with his back against a tree while sharing an easy conversation with his wife. He watched transfixed as her head bent back and her sweet laughter soon followed. It was all so innocent and yet not so. Sighing heavily, Erestor turned and resumed his walk to his office. A foul mood had suddenly befallen him.

\---

The next days were filled with discussions among Celvandil, Elrond and Erestor. It was always a pleasure to have the Lorien advisor visit. He was intelligent and spoke his mind easily in council. In leisure, he frequented the library by day and the Hall of Fire by nightfall. Haldir visited Imladris’ barracks during the day and honed his skills beside those of Lord Glorfindel. In the evening he joined the company to be had in the Hall of Fire as well as that of Celvandil, himself: for on occasion he and Celvandil shared the pleasures of a warm body in a soft bed.

It was on one such occasion that Erestor saw Celvandil take Haldir’s hand and after pulling him in for a passionate kiss, he led the Galadhrim into his room, but not before seeing Erestor’s stunned face in the hallway. Smiling brightly, Celvandil then nodded his good night to the counselor before being pulled through the doorway. Erestor stood still, his shock evident in his posture and on the look upon his ageless face. He felt that familiar prick of fear fill his belly: the fear of being caught in such an act. He immediately felt catapulted back to a different time and a different place where he was the one getting caught and Ecthelion the one standing beside him. ‘Ecthelion’ the name gnawed at his heart, the pain always at the ready to be unleashed, no matter how long or how hard he kept it hidden. Dizziness threatened to take him as he leaned against the wall for support. Slowly he crept down the hallway, afraid of passing the door where the lovers had entered: afraid of what was happening within. Sins and debauchery, yes, he was sure of it-for he too once shared that secret with another. How he made it to his quarters that night, he was still unsure, for his head was reeling in memories and uncertainties.

The next day brought about more talks between Erestor, Elrond and Celvandil. Celvandil was not the only one to notice Erestor’s sudden change of mood. He barely looked Celvandil’s way and when he spoke, it was brusque and with as short an answer that warranted politeness. At times, Elrond had to resist the urge to glare at his counselor and long-time friend.

Celvandil nodded once in agreement and signed his name along with Elrond and Erestor’s to the document that would procure a lending of scribes to Lothlórien for an age; to help with the re-inking of the histories of The Golden Wood. Celvandil then gathered his missives in hand.

“Master Erestor? A word if I may?” Celvandil hurriedly said as Erestor turned to leave the meeting room.

“Of course,” Erestor answered formally.

Melpomaen in the meantime summoned Elrond, leaving the two counselors alone. Elrond excused himself and left the room in a swish of plum robes.

“Erestor, I sense unease from you and I fear it is from what was witnessed by you last eve between myself and Marchwarden Haldir.” Celvandil was never one to back down from any slight.

Erestor shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot, unable to speak, but finally gave a near imperceptible nod.

“My friend, please… look at me?” Pleaded Celvandil. Slowly, Erestor looked up and into the Lórien advisor’s owlish eyes. For a moment, the beauty of the ageless face before him awed Celvandil. Erestor’s loveliness was intoxicating. A comely visage with eyes of darkest night that harbored a look of haunted emotions: Celvandil garnered that there was quite a tale hiding behind them.

“You should offer more discretion in your affairs, Celvandil, for if another but I happened upon you last eve, there could be much trouble for you and Haldir.” Erestor whispered while his eyes moved nervously as if they were speaking of some revolting transgression.

“Why would there be difficulty, my friend?” Celvandil was clearly confused. “We have done nothing in the wrong?”

“Not …nothing in the wrong?” Erestor was truly bewildered. Looking around the room, Erestor then closed the distance between them, afraid of any wayward ears. “It is forbidden.”

Coming closer than was necessary, Celvandil took this moment of closeness to take in the exquisiteness and the scent of his longtime associate. “Erestor, male unions are not prohibited, surely you know of this?” Celvandil gave an incredulous look.

Suddenly blushing in mortification, Erestor took a step backward while cocking his head to one side, that fall of glossy hair cascading to the right. “W…when?”

Gently directing Erestor to a chair behind him, and after handing the counselor a glass of water, Celvandil crouched before him. “I have always known of its acceptance, and though rare, it is not forbidden.” All the color drained from Erestor’s face now.

“Are you and Haldir…?” Erestor found his voice falter.

“Are we coupled? Oh no, no, my friend, we just enjoy a tryst from time to time.” Celvandil smiled wickedly as he stood.

“If you would excuse me….” Erestor stood and before Celvandil had a chance to stop him, Erestor swiftly exited the room. Deciding against a pursuit, Celvandil just sighed heavily. He was genuinely perplexed by what had just transpired between them.

Elves blurred past him as he nearly ran out of the main house, down a small flight of stone steps that leant to a rarely used path whereupon Erestor now ran. Throwing his heavy office robe off, he continued in leggings and shirt only while not even breaking into a sweat. The beauty around him went unseen as his emotions whirled in a cacophony of images that barraged his every thought. His long hair wild behind him, long, lean legs deftly propelled him closer to his destination; a quiet place of sanctuary behind the highest of Imaldris’ waterfalls. He edged around the perilous edge of wet rock, nearly losing his footing due to the spray of the fall upon his boots and body. One last step took him along the narrow ledge diagonally until he was now behind the fall—the thunderous roar of the water almost deafening and yet soothing to his soul.

Catching his breath, he leaned against the damp rock wall and then froze. Sounds of passion carried quietly yet distinctly; echoed throughout the small enclosure. Turning his head to the left he had to take control of himself as his vision adjusted to the darkness within the cave. There, upon the floor, lay Lothwen, her face flushed, breasts heaving with each breath she took as Glorfindel, obviously sated, lay upon her, his head nestled against the soft pillows of her body while she lovingly stroked his golden hair: Their legs entwined in a passionate lover’s embrace. Erestor closed his eyes to the intimate scene that played before him and with nary a sound, easily stole out the way he had come in without the lovers ever knowing he was ever there.

 

TBC…..

Celvandil-animal lover


	14. All is Revealed

Lothwen entered their chambers hurriedly; she had delayed longer than usual and wished to bathe before Erestor retired for the night. Her heart was heavy. She longed to be with Glorfindel, but her loyalties, she knew, should lie with her husband. This secret was wearing her down. She found herself looking over her shoulder all the time. The rooms were dark, illuminated only by that strange twilight when the sun has set but the dark is not quite sure it wants to make its appearance yet. As she neared the door to the bathing chamber, she was startled by a familiar voice, her heart immediately made a leap to leave her chest as her voice already did so. “Lothwen,” was the call that was neither accusing nor surprised to see her.

“My-my lord, why are you sitting in the dark? You startled me.” Her hand rested over her heart as her chest rose and fell swiftly and deeply.

“I would ask you once more a question I put to you many years ago.” With a deep sigh, Erestor stood and slowly walked the short distance between them. “Do you regret this marriage?” His eyes never left hers while watching her face as it mimicked the struggle waging war within her.

“I, I do not regret the years I have been your wife for you have taken good care of me.” Lothwen’s eyes began to well with unshed tears. “You have blessed me with a wonderful son,” here she smiled while thinking of Melpomaen, adding, “I could not ask for a better father for my child.” She began to visibly shake to his dismay.

He gestured for her to sit and as she did so he fetched a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. Gladly accepting it, she sipped it eagerly while collecting her courage. “But yes, “ she barely spoke above a whisper, “I, I do regret our marriage, forgive me, but I do.” This statement unleashed the tears that slowly began to fall down her cheeks.

Erestor closed his eyes to that revelation. Why it affected him so much confused him: for wasn’t he ready to leave her a lifetime ago in Gondolin? Wasn’t he ready to make a life for himself with Ecthelion as far away from that tyranny as possible? She deserved love - and yet he felt betrayed. Betrayed by her, by Glorfindel, by Ecthelion and by his father. That last thought startled him; he hadn’t thought of his father in millennia. He held such animosity towards him that he never thought that Calimion, too, was a victim of the rules they lived by in Gondolin.

“Ecthelion and I were lovers.” He crouched down in front of her as he suddenly blurted this out.

“I know.” She replied.

“You knew?” Erestor said aloud not so much as a question but as a surprise of sorts. Running a hand through his dark hair he decided to continue, he was tired of lies and of hiding. “You knew.” He nodded as he continued to speak, almost finding it amusing. “We were going to leave Gondolin, leave you all his riches and all that we received on our wedding. We were to set out the day we were attacked.”

This time the emotions welled within Lothwen. He was going to leave? She felt betrayed by the very idea. “Why did you agree to wed me?”

“Your uncle alleged if I did not, then he would expose us,” Erestor said so with sadness, knowing that revealing this would hurt her.

“I see,” she whispered and looked down at her hands that were folded upon her lap. Thinking of their wedding night, and the whole awkwardness of it, she suddenly realized just how hard it must have been for him to lay with her.

“The Valar forsook us.” She whispered angrily.

“You mustn’t speak ill of the Valar, we make our on beds to lie in.” Erestor arose to look out upon the growing darkness blanketing the quieting vale.

Still with his back to her, he spoke clearly, sadness invoked from his tone, “I saw you with Glorfindel this day, behind the falls.”

A gasp was heard in the stillness behind him. “You love him.” It was not an accusation, just a need to say it out loud. To give it weight.

“I do.”

“He loves you.”

“Yes.”

“Whatever shall be done?” She quietly asked, fear heard in the quiver of her voice.

“That, I do not know.” He then whispered low as if to himself, “it seems there is much I do not know.” Turning suddenly, he walked past her and directly out of their chambers.

She watched him leave and as the door closed behind her husband, the tears fell fast and hard.

Erestor walked with a swift stride throughout the halls not caring whom he passed. He returned neither a gesture nor a smile to those who tried to catch the counselor’s attention. His feet took him to the familiar path towards the library, and as he turned to his right he saw Glorfindel up ahead making way towards the dining hall, no doubt. He adjusted his tread and quickly found himself before the Captain of Imladris.

Glorfindel raised a hand as if to greet Erestor but stopped mid-gesture; something was not right in the counselor’s eyes-a wild look to them that he had never seen before. Erestor stopped before him and in a moment too swift to be seen, found himself on the receiving end of a rather unexpected fist. Falling backwards, Glorfindel landed hard against a pillar, his head shaking in surprise. Upon opening his eyes, he only saw the diminishing back with long flowing dark tresses flying wildly about as the figure of Erestor retreated down the stairs to the library.

Elves ran to Glorfindel’s side in shock, but the captain shrugged them off, “So… he knows.” All in attendance before Glorfindel, heard this, and with his appetite rapidly failing him, he left for his rooms.

 

Within the sanctity of the library, Erestor began his mad search of any scroll or tome that he could find on the rules of the Elvish world- and of the various realms: he was determined to never be found uninformed again. Hours later, as he lost all track of time, he heard the sound of a throat clearing before him. Looking up he found the gray eyes of his Lord Elrond.

“Do you wish to talk my friend? I feel there is much muddled around you.” Elrond bit into the apple he had in his hand as he sat on the dais before Erestor. He was dressed without robes as it was late at night and he was near to retire.

“You heard?” Erestor sighed as he previewed the disarray of scrolls around him.

“Well, yes, it is not everyday that my captain is accosted by my right hand.” An eyebrow rose in mirth.

“Whatever are you searching for?” Elrond gestured to the scrolls in mayhem about the room.

“Everything.” Was the sincere reply.

“Hmm, that is no small task.” Elrond patted the space next to him. “Come, sit.”

Erestor did so willingly. Stretching his long legs he took the rest of the apple offered to him and bit deeply. Hours passed swiftly as only time has a way of doing whenever important things are being done or said; such as being held within a lover’s embrace or listening to the sweet sound of a child’s laughter.

Elrond spoke very little but listened attentively- knowing that unleashing his story and feelings was something that Erestor had needed to do for a very long time-even as time concerns an Elf. As birds began to chirp their morning songs and the smell of baking bread filled the early morning air; mixing with the gentle dew, the valley began to stir with life and with it the Elf that had been sitting behind the two, stirred. He had been absorbed in the tale of the two most cherished Elves in his life. Elrond knew he was there-knew that Melpomaen deserved to hear the tale without Erestor having to repeat the account once more.

“What of Melpomaen, my dearest friend, will you tell him?” Elrond rubbed circles along his counselor’s back in comfort.

“Yes, he must know all truths, he must know that I do love his mother and that he is a blessing to us both. He has given me the greatest joy in my life.” Erestor slowly stood, his legs protesting from being moved from their too long held position. As he did so, he turned to face the gardens and gasped audibly at seeing his son standing before him.

“How long have you been there?”

“All night.” Melpomaen moved towards his father. “I came looking for you when you had not shown in the hall for evening meal and mother said that you were not in your room.

“I confess that it is much to contemplate, however, it answers many questions from my childhood. Whenever I was within one of my friend’s chambers, I saw that their parents shared but a single room, whilst you each had your own.”

Erestor pulled Melpomaen into a strong embrace. “My son, forgive me, forgive us, we did our best with what we had.”

“Father, you have ever shown me love. What more could anyone hope for?”

Holding his son at arms length, Erestor just wondered at the compassion of his child. “I am blessed to have you my child. Come, let us greet your mother and ease her worry.”

Before they left, Erestor turned to Elrond and bowed before him. “Thank you.”

Elrond waved a hand in dismissal, but before Erestor left, he called after him: “Erestor, there is but one thing.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You will have my library in order today, yes?” Twinkling gray eyes spoke into his.

“Of course, my lord.” Erestor smirked as Elrond watched father and son walk up the stairs and out of his sight.

 

TBC……


	15. A Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some movie verse in this chapter. This is a transition chapter and melancholy as well.

They had come to an understanding. Melpomaen and Erestor spoke with Lothwen of all that their son now knew of his parents’ lack of perfection. Lothwen was relieved yet embarrassed at their plight. She begged forgiveness of her son, grabbing his tunic front and pulling him to her. He had pulled his mother to her feet and wiped away her tears. Lifting her chin so that she should look into his eyes, he told her that nothing could ever change the love he has for her or for Erestor; that he was honored to be their child. To him, nothing would change. His parents were never demonstrative of anything but respect to one another, and he knew that this would always be there for him to see.

Lothwen and Glorfindel continued to love. They were discreet as was Erestor’s only wish, that and the wish to never see them entangled again. The jealousy yet there, though not acted upon any longer. Lothwen went around their apartments with a lighter step now, often humming a pleasant melody. She would always put her family first in all things public; still performing her role as Erestor’s wife when protocol called for her presence.

Melpomaen had since moved into apartments of his own, and was courting a sweet Elf-maiden, Fauniel, a daughter to one of Imladris’ lesser advisors, and with whom the seneschal had grown up. They had ever been fast friends and constant companions so it was only natural that their love began to mature as they did.

Erestor continued to fulfill his duties for Imladris, his relationship with the returned Glorfindel still strained. He knew he still harbored resentment for Glorfindel. What was most surprising to him was that he did so not so much due to his liaison with Lothwen, but the very fact that he was deemed worthy to return to Arda while Ecthelion was not. That and because every time he saw Glorfindel, he was reminded of his lost love, he was not able to repress his thoughts when Ecthelion’s best friend was ever a reminder of what he once was and of whom he had lost his heart too.

Lately, other thoughts began to creep into his mind as well. Knowing that all Elves that perished would one day be returned to Aman, he could not help wondering if  
perhaps time had lessened Ecthelion’s feelings for him. Did he find new love while he awaited Erestor’s sailing? Such thoughts sent him into a near panic: manifesting itself in sleepless nights and stomach ailments. The affects of which began to show on his face-as if he began to age just a little quicker each day. Lothwen worried for him. She often heard him pacing the floor at night or watched as he sat on their balcony, staring into the night for hours upon end.

All would soon erupt further into chaos. The nine were sent on their mission in hopes of destroying the one ring, and Arwen was near inconsolable. Her worry over Estel consumed her. Erestor seemed the only one able to console her during this time-for he knew of her heartache keenly.

Elrond, afraid of losing Arwen, insisted that she make passage on one of the last ships to sail away from Middle Earth towards Aman, were kith and kin shall reside for all of eternity. The time of the Elves was waning while the time of Man was drawing near.  
Melpomaen was given the task of escorting Arwen on her journey towards the Grey Havens. Fauniel stood by his side, newly wed, for just the night before in a fast ceremony surrounded by friends and family, they pledged their love for each other and bound.

Those staying behind, watched from stairs and windows as the party left for their trip towards the sea. Erestor hugged his son tightly, placing a sealed letter into his hands. “Please give this to Ecthelion, of the House of the Fountain, when chance you meet.” Melpomaen gave his word and stashed the note in his pack.

“Take care of him.” Erestor spoke as he placed a kiss upon Fauniel’s cheeks.

“I swear it,” she smiled at her husband’s father.

Lothwen slid beside Erestor and grabbed his hand tightly for support. Together they watched their only son depart until they could see naught of the party anymore. The next few days were hard on all that were left behind. Imladris became so much quieter, only enough Elves remained to keep her running as efficiently as possible. So it was with much surprise and sadness when Arwen returned, without escort, to confront her father.  
Later she would tell Erestor that she demanded that Melpomaen continue on; for it was her burden alone that she carried with her, her cause and no one else’s.

Though relieved that his son and new daughter would be safe, his heart grieved along with Elrond’s for the enormity that was Arwen’s choice of humanity, which was ultimately death. Elrond could take little more; Erestor knew it for true, for his lord’s eyes could no longer hide his pain.

 

TBC


	16. Finding a Place

Melpomaen held onto his new bride as they watched Valinor come into view. Leaning back into her husband’s embrace, Fauniel gasped as large cliffs loomed before them. A pass in the cleft of rocks would lead them into their new life. He could feel her tremble and held onto her tighter as they drew nearer and nearer. They saw that at the base of those cliffs held an area of flat land whereupon dwellings stood. The ships easily began their slow entrance into the harbor.

The harbor was lined in a dazzling display of ships. By far this was the largest number of ships to have called upon the White Shores at one time. As with the ways of the Elves, the docking and disembarking ran smoothly and efficiently. At the base of every dock sat an Elf at a table taking count of all who came to Valinor: names, lineage, birthplace, occupation, all was recorded; all the better to find a loved one and learn of whom had not yet sailed. The mid-sized seaport village on the outskirts of Calacirya would serve as home to all returning Elves until further accommodations could be found. Most would join long lost family members and dwell amongst kin once more.

Melpomaen and Fauniel were overcome with both excitement and trepidation. This was at once so foreign to them. All their loved ones were still in Imladris, in Middle Earth, a world away. They felt as strangers here in a faraway land and indeed they were.

They were given a room at a cozy inn until they could find a place for themselves within this mysterious land. They spent their days exploring the village and acquainting themselves with the many Elves who dwelled there. Countless stories were exchanged over mead by candlelight each night, forging new friendships and various connections.

One such night saw Melpomaen and his bride beginning to enter their room as a voice called out from the dark. A she-Elf upon horseback rode up to them and easily dismounted to stand in front of them. Lowering her hood, Melpomaen and Fauniel gasped as they then both bowed low. “Please rise, there is no need for that here,” Celebrían smiled, as Melpomaen suddenly found himself in a gentle embrace.

“My lady, you look well.” He smiled brightly.

“I feel well.” Celebrían stated.

Hugging Fauniel next, the couple asked her inside to sit and talk. After gladly accepting a glass of wine, she sat with her back straight and her hands kneading her skirt. “How is my lord husband?” Her eyes shone with untold emotion.

“He is well, though weary, my lady, and sure to join us before long.” Here Melpomaen stood and rummaged in his pack. “Ah, here it is. “ He stated to no one in particular. “I have a letter from Lord Elrond for your eyes alone.” He handed her the letter and she took it gingerly, holding it to her breast with a shuddering sigh. She then lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. A smile broke over her face as the faintest trace of his scent invaded her very being. Memories caught her until she looked up once more.

“How are my sons?”

“They are well, my lady,” he smiled.

“And my daughter?” She barely whispered.

Melpomaen and Fauniel exchanged worried glances that did not go unnoticed by Celebrían. “Tell me truly, son of Erestor, what news of my daughter?”

“My Lady Arwen was with us as we made way to the Grey Havens. Though nearly a quarter of the way there, she suddenly turned and made her way back from whence we came. She bade me promise to keep going, that it was her life to choose that which she would…. I…am…sorry.” He found he could no longer look into his lady’s eyes for fear of seeing her pain. Fauniel laid a hand upon her husband’s arm in support.

“Please, Melpomaen, it is not your fault. My daughter knows her heart. This is her song to sing: hers and Estel’s. My heart shall ever grieve her…loss…” here her words faltered and she was quiet for sometime.

“I know… “ Her voice startled them, “ I know she will be happy and that is all I could ever wish for.”

“It is late, my lady, would you stay the night with us?” Fauniel stood to offer her lodging.

“Yes, thank you.” Celebrían answered politely.

“Please, our bedroom is through here, let me change the sheets and then you can…”

“Nay, Fauniel, the couch will suit me fine.” Both began to protest but she held up her hand to quiet them.

“Tomorrow I would ask if you would come and share my home with me. I am in need of a seneschal for the house I have had built for my husband’s return.” She looked hopefully to each and watched as they smiled at each other and nodded.

“We would be honored to reside in Elrond’s house once more,” Melpomaen bowed.

“Splendid!” Celebrían smiled wide.

***

The House of Elrond was located in a wooded area a day’s ride from the city of Tirion upon Túna. A gentle river flowed nearby of which sweet sprays of several waterfalls fell into it. Rocky outcrops enclosed the back of the house in multitude. It was in ways similar to Imladris and yet so very different. There were already many Elves living in the house and within the surrounding area whereupon flocks of sheep were kept alongside fertile farmlands. Melpomaen had taken one look and knew that Lord Elrond would at once become quite fond of his new home, for he knew he was. He was happy to be of service once more to the House of Elrond: Melpomaen and Fauniel had found their place amongst the Elves of Valinor.

 

TBC


	17. The Letter

Melpomaen rode with Lady Celebrían to her yearly excursion to the city of Tirion. Here she would make trade agreements for textiles not available to the vale of New Imladris. The wool of the vale’s sheep was much sought out for the suppleness of its fleece: for there was none finer in all of Valinor.

 

Nigh a week they spent in the complete comfort of her husband’s grandparent’s home. Idril and Tuor relished the visits with Celebrían as she constantly delighted them with stories of their grandson’s life in a way that was much more intimate than in any written word available inside the great Library of Túna. Their luxurious house was located in the center of the very city itself. A city that thrived of old yet mingled with new: Elves born upon the White Shores dwelt with those bred within the lands of Middle Earth. Each division lending equally to the governing of Valinor.

 

Tuor took an immediate liking to the young Elf. He saw all that was good in him: his innocence and his keen mind. ‘What a comely combination that came from being nurtured in peace and love,’ he thought. Not from the tumultuous times he tried to raise his own son in. At dinner their second night there, Tuor led Melpomaen to the terrace whereupon he smoked his pipe while sharing a glass of warmed brandy with the young Elf.

 

“So Master Melpomaen, tell me of your parents, I do remember them vaguely…after The Fall…” his words trailed off even as his eyes became lost in memories. Melpomaen gave him a few moments to his thoughts before speaking.

 

“My father became Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond, and along with my mother, they dwelled in Imladris after following Lord Elrond to the vale.” Tuor then looked at Melpomaen, now intent on his guest’s words.

 

“Lord Elrond is everything legend has made him and so much more, my lord. He is wise and kind and very brave. It was an honor to serve his house and to continue to do so in Valinor is quite humbling.” Tuor could not deny the sincerity in this Elf’s eyes nor in his words.

 

“Tell me of my grandsons. Did you know them well?”

 

“Aye my lord, I knew them well. Though older than I, they often showed interest in my education, and along with Lord Glorfindel, taught me the basics of weaponry.” Here Melpomaen laughed out loud. “Oh they were pranksters, often lending havoc to any they deemed worthy of their mischief! Lord Glorfindel among one of their favorite to taunt. I do believe it was because he was such a good sport about it. I remember the time they knocked on Lord Glorfindel’s office door and ran away quickly only for Lord Glorfindel to begin stamping out a smoldering pile of horse dung left before his threshold!” Tuor joined in Melpomaen’s laughter at the memory of his grandson’s antics.

 

Melpomaen suddenly became quiet. “What is wrong?” Asked Tuor in concern at the change in the young Elf’s mood.

 

“I was just remembering how hard they took their mother’s capture and the years they spent avenging her.” Here Melpomaen shook his head. “They were unstoppable. They would listen to no one and lived as Rangers until they sated their bloodlust. Elrond was near inconsolable until after they returned. He suffered so much…” He trailed off and glanced up into the closed eyes of Lord Tuor. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you any pain.” He whispered.

 

“Nonsense, pain is but a part of life. Sometimes it is the pain that makes us all that we are…. come…” Tuor gestured for Melpomaen to follow him inside.

 

Melpomaen faltered. “My lord, might I ask something of you?”

 

“Of course, ask.” Tuor waited.

 

“Do you know where Lord Ecthelion of the Fountain resides? Is he here in Valinor?”

 

Tuor nodded, “he lives but two houses over to the left of mine.”

 

“Thank you.” Melpomaen stated simply, offering no other information.

 

Tuor did not pry. “Come my young friend, you must regal the flaming manure

story to my wife…”

 

***

 

Melpomaen had decided to utilize his time in Tirion to see to the task that his father had given him. The very next morning Melpomaen arose early and after a light breakfast, he bathed and dressed. Tucking the letter his father had given him into his pocket, he began the short walk to Lord Ecthelion’s house. While not as grand as Lady Idril and Lord Tuor’s own, this villa was quite appealing in its own right. A small courtyard led to the front door where upon Melpomaen rapped lightly on the door’s silver knocker, which was shaped like a shining star. A servant answered promptly. “Yes?”

 

“Is Lord Ecthelion at home? I have a message for him.” He felt suddenly nervous. This was the Elf that his father had loved…no…the Elf that his father still loved. He wondered what kind of Elf he would be? Would he be receptive of him?

 

“And whom shall I say is calling?” Asked the small Elf who led him into the entryway.

 

“My name is Melpomaen and I have a message from an old friend of his.” He watched as the house Elf walked down the hall and opened a door that led to a garden. He heard the sounds of exertion along with the clanging of metal. Surely he would be interrupting the lord’s morning routine. He suddenly became very nervous at the sound of abrupt silence. The house Elf came back down the hall and showed Melpomaen to the garden.

 

Upon entering the large grounds, Melpomaen was led to a smaller area that served as a training ground or exercise yard of sorts. There he saw an Elf turn to look at him in interest. This Elf had brown hair and a pleasant face; his very build screamed that of warrior. Then the Elf with the braided black hair turned around and smiled gently in interest at him. This Elf was surely Ecthelion, for he was beyond fair and his eyes were full of confusion.

 

“Lord Ecthelion?” Melpomaen inclined his head in greeting.

 

“Yes?” answered the dark-haired Elf, “Do I know you?” Ecthelion thought he looked familiar—like he should know that face.

 

‘No, my lord, but I come on behalf of one with whom you were well acquainted.”

 

“Is that so?” Ecthelion was beyond curious now and came closer to stand before his visitor. He stood near a head taller than Melpomaen did. Ecthelion looked him over, ‘lovely,’ he thought to himself. Eyes that were somehow recognizable stared back at him.

 

“Yes, I come on behalf of my father, Erestor of Imladris.”

 

For a few seconds Ecthelion did not react. He just stared at Melpomaen with blank eyes. Two things began to register with him: Father and Erestor. He stumbled back a step, then sat down upon the ledge near him, almost missing it. Torech was immediately by his side. “What is wrong?”

 

Ecthelion was visibly shaking now. “My lord, I have this letter from my father.”

 

“Who…who is your mother?” Came the shaky question.

 

“Her name is Lothwen, my lord.”

 

“Lothwen….” Ecthelion whispered to himself. “You…you look like her, but you have your father’s eyes and mouth.”

 

“My lord?” Melpomaen again tried to hand the letter to him.

 

With shaking hands and so many questions he needed answered, he took the letter gingerly. Fear and anticipation welled within him. Torech went towards him but Ecthelion shook his head from side-to-side. “I have sudden need to be alone.” Melpomaen inclined his head and before he left Ecthelion called after him.

 

“Where may I call upon you if need be?”

 

“I am a guest at Lord Tuor’s house, my lord, though but for one day more. Then I shall leave to reside once again in New Imladris with the Lady Celebrían. “

 

“Thank you.” Ecthelion nodded once and watched as Melpomaen left.

 

Torech once more moved towards him, but he held up his hand. “Please, I have need to be alone…now… if you would be so kind.” Ecthelion sighed with a trembling voice.

 

Though unhappy about Ecthelion’s sudden change in demeanor, Torech retreated into the house, though not without looking back a few times over his shoulder; a sudden worry wrinkling his brow.

 

When he was sure he was alone Ecthelion ran his finger over the fine script that sprawled his name. Holding the letter to his nose he inhaled deeply. The faintest scent of his long-lost lover gently infused his being. He let out a sudden gasp as memories of Erestor overwhelmed him. Ever careful, even with his shaking fingers, he broke the seal and opened the letter to reveal more of the recognizable script inside:

 

 

Dearest Ecthelion,

 

My heart cannot comprehend that you may be reading this letter. For so long

I have lived my life with the largest part of it missing: Your presence.

 

In all the years we have been parted, my love for you has never faltered.

I took none into my heart or my bed. Save for one act that begot me my

Beloved son, for whom I am blessed to have: I have tainted myself with no one.

 

Who could compare to what we have shared? You have my heart completely.

And if you so desire it still, I willingly give it to you once more upon reaching

The white shores of Aman. When my Lord’s tasks here on Middle Earth are

Fulfilled, we shall be together once more.

 

Forever Yours,

Erestor

 

 

Tears fell upon the parchment, the ink beginning to smear. Hastily Ecthelion patted the letter dry, swiped at his errant tears, and folded the parchment into his pocket. He suddenly fell to his knees in grief. His breathing ragged, he then whispered out loud, “Erestor, what shall I do?”

 

TBC...


	18. Choices

The endurance of one the most resolute of Elven-kind had met its limits. The marriage of his only daughter saw the resolve of an icon of Arda’s leaders fall. His strength stayed throughout the ceremony and during the following celebrations until Elrond of Imladris bid his daughter goodnight. In retiring to his rooms in the great palace within Minas Tirith, Elrond faltered at the threshold; unseen by all the revelers excluding Erestor, who had the presence of mind to follow his lord to his rooms. Sensing his lord’s turmoil, he took chase and now seized Elrond’s elbow and helped him through the door to the sitting room within. Elrond fell into a nearby chair, literally crumbling from his pain. Erestor ran to the basin and poured cool water on the nearby hand towel. Ringing it out, he then held it to the nape of Elrond’s neck.

“I … can… take … no more…” the words were whispered into the air.

Fear enveloped Erestor. This was unlike his stalwart lord. This was a grieving Elf before him. Erestor then entered the hallway and stopped a jovial servant in passing. The maid looked down shyly as she was still unused to Elves in her city. “Do you know of Lord Celeborn?” He asked her quietly.

“Aye,” she answered shyly.

“Tell him he is needed in Lord Elrond’s rooms. Tell him Erestor sends for him.” He lifted the maid’s unwilling chin up to be sure she looked at the seriousness on his face. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

Blushing to the roots of her fair hair, she nodded and quickly looked down once more. “Make haste!” He commanded her. She nodded and walked quickly through the hallway.

Time seemed to stand still while Erestor waited for Lord Celeborn. He did his best to comfort his lord, but he knew not what to do. Finally a knock resounded and Erestor practically flew to the door in a whoosh of robes, letting in a startled Celeborn and Lady Galadriel within his lord’s chamber. Of course she would follow her husband, he noted to himself in relief. Galadriel immediately stooped in front of Elrond, her hands upon his gently. Erestor knew the three Elves were speaking to each other in mind only, as Elrond had no strength left this night to verbalize.

“Faithful Erestor,” Galadriel spoke quietly, “help my husband take our son to bed.”

Erestor immediately was at their side and together he and Celeborn leant strength to Elrond and lay him on the soft bed. Galadriel removed his shoes and laid the soft coverlet over her daughter’s husband. She soothed his brow and spoke gentle words over him, easing him into a light sleep.

She moved them to the sitting room once more and turned to Erestor. “Elrond needs to sail soonest. I will sail with him, for my heart… is weary as well. My lord husband shall stay and watch over our grandchildren until time…” Here she took a deep breath. “Until time has no more need of them here. Will you sail with us?” Her eyes bore into Erestor’s as if seeing into his very soul.

“I will do what is needed: I will follow my lord wherever bid.” Erestor replied truthfully.

“Then ride towards Imladris at first light and set his house to order. Meet us in half a turn of the year in the Gray Havens. Elrond shall stay here until time to leave, so he may make peace with his daughter. Take Glorfindel with you.” She watched as an almost imperceptible flinch passed across his fine features. “Take what Elrond tells you to only. The rest will come when the remaining sail.” Erestor nodded once. “Our trust you have, Erestor.” He knew their trust meant more than all the riches in Imladris.

Leaving his lord in their very capable hands, Erestor returned to the festivities which were somewhat winding down. The bride and groom had retired to their newlywed chambers and the remaining guests lingered on with drink, food and song. Among them he found Glorfindel entertaining a group that consisted of Elves and Men, Lothwen was ever at his side. Her eyes shone with delight at his storytelling and of the love she felt for the captain. He had made his peace with this affair decades past. Upon letting go of any heartache associated with the union of his wife and the reborn Glorfindel, he found they had grown even closer in friendship; especially since the parting of their son Melpomaen with his new wife to the West. Because of this bond, Lothwen sensed Erestor’s urgency. She immediately excused herself and met him halfway through the great Hall.

“What is wrong? “ She asked with worried eyes, as she laid her delicate hand upon his arm.

He spoke low for her hearing only. “Elrond must sail and I along with him.”

She let out a little gasp that shone her fear. “There is more, isn’t there?”

The corners of Erestor’s mouth turned up slightly with admiration of her ever-perceptive observations. He was so proud that she was the mother of his son. He nodded and as he was about to ask for her to fetch Glorfindel, he looked up to see said Elf walking with a quizzical expression toward them. Ever the warrior eye, Glorfindel had quickly scanned the room and noted the absence of Lords Elrond and Celeborn and of the Lady Galadriel.

“Follow me Glorfindel, for we have much to discuss.” Glorfindel followed with Lothwen between them.

Erestor briefed Glorfindel on the situation as they walked to their lord’s chambers. Knocking lightly, Celeborn bid them enter. Glorfindel and Erestor went into the sleeping chamber as Lothwen waited patiently in the sitting room. They found Elrond awake and sitting up against the headboard. Both knelt before their lord in supplication, which was an odd thing to behold, for neither had done so before. Elrond gently placed a hand upon their heads.

“My dearest friends, I can only ask this of you, for I would not command such a journey from any aside from myself.”

“I follow you willingly, my lord.” Erestor did not hesitate in his reply.

“As do I,” Glorfindel added his oath as surely.

“I ask that you return to Imladris and bring with you the wooden box within my rooms. Celeborn will see to the artifacts and scrolls that are precious to us all. Take with you what you will, I can deny you not.”

“Aye, my lord.” Both answered without hesitation.

~~~~

The following morning Lothwen bade them a safe trip after telling Erestor of that which she wanted to bring with her to Valinor. Watching them leave until she could see them no more, she then turned to enter the palace. Her heart was grave with the burden of sailing and yet overjoyed with the anticipation of seeing her son once again.

The journey to Imladris was blissfully uneventful; even so, Glorfindel thought he would go mad from the silence hanging between he and Erestor. Finally, on the twentieth night after another silent dinner of none but the essential verbiages, he could take no more.

“This silence between us ends this night, Counselor.” Glorfindel said in a low yet commanding voice that served to make his companion look at him with a scowl to his face.

“Lothwen spoke to me of your forgiveness, nay, of your blessing to our union,” here Glorfindel swore he heard a low guttural sound emanating from his traveling companion, “I know her words to be true, or are they not?”

Erestor huffed and folded his arms before him, “aye, they are true.”

“Have I committed some offense? If so, then speak of it so that I may make it right between us.

Erestor laughed strangely. “Unless you can bring Ecthelion back, then there is naught you can do.”

Glorfindel dared to touch Erestor’s arm in a gesture of comfort, ready for him to pull back. Surprisingly he did not flinch. Suddenly Erestor stood and began pacing.

“I know it is unreasonable for me to hold you responsible for your return and not…his. Though I do. I can’t STAND to see you here, Glorfindel, for your very presence reminds me of what I have lost!” Erestor stopped and stared with all the hate that shone in his eyes. “Time and time again I have asked myself why? Never could I come up with a good enough reason. And yes,” he hissed, though more so at himself, “you are honorable, and very much here. Lothwen deserves your love.” Here Erestor laughed some more, “Even you deserve her love. I know you are a virtuous Elf, of that I have no doubts, but I cannot get over my association of Ecthelion with you.”

Glorfindel looked down sadly, “I loved him too. He was my sworn brother. I miss him every day, sometimes he drove me mad with his wild ways, but ever I loved him.”

Erestor turned and stared at Glorfindel while he spoke those words. The sorrow emanated off of the warrior in waves. He felt hollow and selfish.

“Do you know what troubles me deeply?”

Glorfindel looked up into those dark eyes with genuine concern.

“When… when we sail to Valinor, that he…he will not have waited for me.” Erestor spoke in the lowest voice to which Glorfindel strained to hear.

TBC


	19. Valinor

The village on the outskirts of Calacirya came into view in the distance. Eagles flew overhead, circling near the cliffs. A horn bellowed deep the arrival of the few ships that brought such precious cargo home. Palpable anticipation ran throughout the dock. Valinor’s favorite son had come home at last. Word was sent months ahead of the impending arrival. Many were the Elves who crowded into the seaport village that day; all to lay claim to being amongst the first to witness the arrival of Elrond of Imladris. Though he did not think so, Elrond was a hero amongst Elven-kind. All knew of his sacrifices; all knew of his many losses, and yet his honor was ever steadfast and his care for his people never wavered.

 

Celebrían wrung her hands constantly, her heart fluttering heavily against her chest. She had taken extreme care in her appearance. She wore her light hair straight down her back except for four love knots tied within: one for each of her children and one for her husband. Her dress of light green caught the sparkle of her eyes. Not just one time did she find herself ready to give into one emotion or another, whichever surfaced next within her. Years upon years she had grieved and eventually healed, here in the land of her people. Though some hurts could never fully be repaired, she was shown how to cope with them all. Immersing herself in the building of New Imladris, in hopes of having her family with her once more, was a balm to soothe her once much troubled soul.

 

Galadriel and Erestor accompanied Elrond down the gangplank. Instead of rejoicing at finally being in Valinor, their only thought was to get Elrond healing. The requisite census takers were enthralled by sight of the Elves before them. Unable to utter their practiced greetings, they instead dripped ink onto the parchment before them, as with wide eyes and opened mouths, they watched the majesty of Lady Galadriel and of Lord Elrond pass before them. Not until they watched as Lady Celebrían broke into a near run, her skirts discreetly in her hands, did they realize their error. Lord Glorfindel, the Marchwarden Haldir, and another unknown female Elf were next to follow. This time they remembered their duties and while blushing at the infamous Lord Glorfindel’s presence before them, they gently asked for verification of all that were disembarking.

 

Glorfindel quietly gave the names and with a gracious nod to the census takers, took Lothwen’s hand in his as they followed their lord eagerly. They watched as a tearful Celebrían embraced both Elrond and Galadriel. Squeezing Glorfindel’s hand in support, Lothwen suppressed a sob of her own in her throat. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she laughed and began to pull Glorfindel along with a renewed strength.

 

“Father!” Melpomaen called hurriedly.

 

“Father!”

 

Erestor’s head snapped up as he heard his son’s voice.

 

“Go,” Elrond nodded.

 

Erestor bowed his head in deference before turning all his attention to his son. Erestor found himself almost knocked over from the intensity of the hug that was being given to him.

 

“Let me look at you!” Erestor laughed as he managed to hold his son at bay from more squeezing. Grinning from ear to ear, the two laughed and hugged once more.

 

“Me too!” A sweet voice spoke, and as Erestor turned to hug Fauniel, he found he could not get a good grip: her stomach stood in the way.

 

“What is this?” Erestor grinned as he kissed Fauniel’s cheek.

 

“A welcome home present,” teased Melpomaen and as Lothwen approached, she squealed in delight, hugging and rubbing Fauniel’s belly.

 

“You’ve been busy, my son,” teased Lothwen as she hugged him tight.

 

“Yes.” He managed to squeak the sound from within her ironclad grip.

 

Glorfindel stood back, watching the scene develop before him, feeling a bit awkward. Haldir stood beside him, searching the area for a familiar face. At that very moment Celebrían managed to greet those so faithful to her family. Both bowed before her but she waved them off and hugged and kissed the returned warriors.

 

“I have carriages waiting to take us all back to New Imladris. Glorfindel, your parents are there awaiting your return, as are yours, dear guardian.” She smiled fondly whilst leading them to the carriages. Lothwen grabbed for Glorfindel and pulled him in to the reunion where both her son and his wife summarily hugged him in welcome.

 

“Congratulations.” He nodded once.

 

“Thank you!” the expecting couple exclaimed in unison.

 

As the small party was led to the carriages, Erestor scanned the faces in the crowd near the busy little seaport village. The village was filled with Elves working happily or relaxing. Lothwen noticed him scanning the area. She knew for whom he looked. Feeling her gaze, Erestor sighed heavily and turned to her, taking her other arm.

 

“Come, Grandmother,” he teased, “let us go to our new home.”

 

“Oh, my, but are we that old?” she cringed.

 

“Aye,” smirked Glorfindel, which earned him a pout from Lothwen and a sneer from Erestor.

 

A lone rider sat upon a brilliant black steed, high upon the ridge of rock surrounding Calacirya. His black hair billowed behind him as the high winds wisped by, lifting up the errant strands to whip at his comely face. The horse whinnied and stamped its foot, feeling its owner’s unease. He arrived in time to see Erestor enter the waiting carriage. His heart flipped in his chest at the visage of the one who had held it so enthralled all those many years ago. His stomach lurking at the glimmer those raven locks gave off in the fading sunshine. Memories assaulted him, nearly causing him to call out in their attack. He strained his hearing and thought he caught the timbre of his voice floating on the breeze. He watched until the carriage faded into the horizon, until tears stung at his eyes.

 

“Coward.” He spat and steered his horse back to his home.

 

 

TBC….


	20. A New Life Begins

Days turned to months, time moved ever forward, never waiting for anyone - always on its own schedule. Life went on as it always does, ever flowing forward. Olórin spoke to Manwë, at the Mountain of Manwë, Taniquetil, on behalf of Erestor, Lothwen and Glorfindel.

Manwë, with the gentle nudging of his wife, Varda, annulled the marriage of Erestor and Lothwen, allowing for the union of Glorfindel and Lothwen to take place without recompense. They wed in a morning ceremony, in the flowering gardens of New Imladris. Those in attendance were but a handful of Elves: Glorfindel and Lothwen’s parents, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían, Melpomaen and Fauniel, and finally there was Erestor, who held his new granddaughter, Lothluin, with great pride. She was the spitting image of her mother save for the ringlets of reddish-brown hair. Every chance he had, Erestor doted on his granddaughter; she eased the burden in his heart and filled much of the void he had therein.

The gift Erestor gave to the newly bonded pair was immense and surpassed all others they received; his gift was his blessing and the peace he had made on the voyage over with Glorfindel. He realized his anger with Glorfindel stemmed from within, and when he decided to let it go, calm had overcome him so immediately- that all on the ship noticed the change immediately.

At first, after settling into his new home, which at once was similar to Imladris and yet very different in its own right, he began to set up a vast archive of all that had transpired of their time upon Middle Earth, per Elrond’s instructions. It helped to ease both his burdens and those of his lord’s. For nigh six months after their arrival, Elrond could be found either lost in thought in the gardens or sitting near the river, fishing rod in hand, though never was it cast, with Celebrían always quietly by his side, lending him strength. They spoke at periods in low tones to each other and at times only within their bond, but his healing had begun. With time, he came to be that which he once was, and even much more - more since he need not fear war anymore. Most importantly, he had oaths from his sons and Celeborn that they would sail once his daughter faded to only a dream.

Erestor had stopped hoping for a letter to arrive for him whenever mail was sent to their valley, after none came for him from Ecthelion during the first two months of his residency. He instead immersed himself in the archiving and in the joy his granddaughter brought into his life. All in New Imladris were smitten with the child; she brought life, happiness and much needed hope to all.

The archive was set up towards the middle of the house, in the most climate controlled room they could find. The room was large, spacious and out of direct sunlight, getting neither too hot nor too cool. Shelves were built along the interior walls, and many tables and very comfortable chairs scattered throughout. At the far end of the room, near the only windows available, was a makeshift area consisting of a few desks and sturdy chairs used only by those who maintained the room, or those who had the task of preserving, copying, or writing additions to its ever increasing collection. At any particular time of the day or night, it was frequently occupied by Erestor or Elrond, who found much solace there. They spent as much time gazing out of the window as they did occupied in their self-appointed tasks. The window opened onto a view of calming, green foliage over a rolling hill scattered with wild flowers; it felt as if the trees themselves were happy to be there. It felt like home.

It was in that area that Elrond found Erestor on a clear Saturday morning. A quiet rustle of robes fluttered next to where Erestor was steadily writing from a new supply of parchment. Not looking up, Erestor spoke quietly, “Good morn, my lord.”

“Yes, yes…” Elrond sounded distracted. Erestor looked up quizzically, his hand stilling. “I received this in this week’s mail delivery.” He proceeded to hand the letter to Erestor.

“Is Gildor staying a few days then, as seems to be his habit of late?” Erestor asked, amused that the famed Wanderer chose to keep doing just that, even in Valinor, though he used the excuse of mail delivery as his reason to travel between three of the nearest cities.

“Yes, it seems so. We shall all dine together tonight.” A smile graced Elrond’s comely face and a twinkle even reached his wise grey eyes. All loved the tales of Gildor, for he had so many to tell and was a very entertaining guest to have.

Erestor read the letter and looked up to see his lord and friend watching him intently. “Will you go?” he asked.

“Yes, I should…I want to…it is just much to take all at once.” Elrond ran a hand across his face. The letter was from his grandmother and grandfather, Idril and Tuor, inviting him to met them and stay a while. It seemed they were trying to be patient in meeting him, and wanted to respect his rehabilitation, so they had delayed contacting him until now. “They wish me to meet Turgon as well.” Elrond sighed. “I do not know if I am ready for all of this…family...” he smirked and Erestor smiled with him.

“I will go with you if you would have me,” Erestor stated.

“I would expect no less,” Elrond winked, “besides; your parents are there as well. It is time we get all our demons out in the open, no?” This time it was Erestor who frowned at the thought of meeting his father once more. And then his face went white.

Elrond put a hand upon Erestor’s forearm. “Ecthelion is there as well, is he not?” Erestor closed his eyes and nodded. “Then, my friend, we will have quite the time…won’t we?”

“Aye.”

 

TBC….

 

 

Lothluin- orange blossom (s)


	21. Meetings Old and New

The carriage ride seemed to take a rout that stretched a distance almost unbearable to the occupants. Unbearable not for lack of comfort, for the seats were well cushioned and the road as smooth as silk. The discomfort stemmed from the passengers: two of whom were lost deep within thoughts of their coming meetings with families they had either never met or had not had encounters with in ages.

Celebrían began to speak for the fifth time in as many hours and upon seeing the brooding countenance of the men in her company, complete with furrowed brows and pursed lips, she promptly decided all small talk would be absolutely useless. Turning her face towards the window, she took small delight in the wondrous green fields in view, replete with seas of wildflowers in a rainbow of colors. Streams bobbled gently by; feeding various birds, animals and Elves alike in its life sustaining flow. Cottages dusted the fields here and there, filled with Elves living as farmers. Squeals of elfling’s laughter brought a smile to her comely face. She thought of her own children and remembered those days fondly.

Espying the city in the near distance, Celebrían broke her silence. “We are nearing Tirion, my dears, time to awaken from your melancholy.”

As if on cue, both Elrond and Erestor sighed deeply before sitting straighter in their seats. Celebrían smoothed a feigned stray hair behind her husband’s ear as an excuse to run her delicate fingers along Elrond’s pensive jaw. “Relax, my love,” she whispered, to which he nodded, finally smiling somewhat. He caught her hand in his, only to bring it to his mouth whereupon his soft lips lightly kissed them. She smiled wide, her eyes shining with her love for her husband. Erestor looked at that simple act and felt their adoration radiate from within. He blushed at the intimacy behind such a sweet gesture.

The path became louder as the simple pave gave way to a more complex geometrical pattern of stone. Erestor marveled upon the site of the city: millennia of wondrous stone and marble towers of white and gray that delighted the eye. He had a sudden memory of Gondolin; for many of the same designs were in evidence here. A sudden panic began to fill his eyes. Celebrían saw the change and leaned forward in her seat to brush his forearm with her hand. “All will be well, my friend.” She tried to reassure him with a pat and a smile. Erestor then looked at Elrond who was only capable of a little shrug. Together they burst out laughing for fear of crying.

The carriage came to a stop before a courtyard leading to a large home. The house had many levels in the base of one of the towers. Servants stood ready beside a beautiful Elf-maid with wise gray eyes and a tall man with hair dark as pitch, his nose and chin strong and sure. The ellith began to cry. Her gaze never strayed from Elrond’s face. The man smiled wide, pride shining brightly from his blue eyes. The servants bowed and gathered the luggage as the travelers stood before their hosts. Celebrían bowed her head in greeting. “My dear Celebrían, it is a blessing to see you once more,” Idril spoke as she kissed each of her cheeks and Tuor followed suit.

Idril then moved before her grandson. He was an Elf she knew so much of yet never had they ever met. “My son, my heart is overfilled with joy to finally have you here before me. Long have I waited for this day to welcome you home. “Her voice was shaking as it took all her will not to succumb to her emotions. She stepped closer, her eyes glistening wet while her hands shakily touched the face before her. Elrond stood before her in disbelief. His face a mixture of joy and sadness.

“Grandmother,” he leaned into her touch and embraced her hard.

Tuor stood before them now, his strong hand on Elrond’s shoulder. His strained voice choked out, “well met, my son, well met.” Elrond was struck by the visage of his own sons’ in their grandfather’s face.

Tuor composed himself enough to step aside to greet Erestor. “Welcome to our home, Counselor Erestor, we are most pleased to have this fortune to meet our grandson’s most trusted advisor.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.” Erestor bowed in greeting. “It is an honor to stand in your presence.”

Idril pulled herself away from Elrond enough to smile at Erestor. “Counselor Erestor of once Gondolin, I remember your face and welcome you home." She placed a hand on his arm to which he bowed his head, blushing.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, my lady.”

“Come inside, we have a lunch prepared. You must be quite hungry and thirsty from your travels.” They followed their hosts inside, though not before Elrond and Erestor shared a quick look of relief. At least, this meeting went smoothly. Erestor could only hope that his would go so well.

Celebrían nudged her way between the two, tucked her hand in both Elrond’s and Erestor’s arm as she escorted them into the house.

The next morning, in a restless night of strange dreams, Erestor awoke to the aroma of smoked fish and fresh baked bread. A gentle breeze through the sheer curtains wrapped itself around him, his mind cleared as his stomach rumbled in response to the tantalizing odors permeating this temporary room. He dressed carefully, choosing a long dark gray tunic to wear over his soft cotton shirt of forest green. He wore hose of similar hue which were tucked into black calf boots of the softest polished leather. A green sash was tied loosely at his waist. One final look in the polished mirror, a tuck of his impeccably combed hair and he was ready to tackle the day.

A servant assisted him to the dining hall whereupon he was greeted by his host and hostess and a pleasantly relaxed countenance of his lord and friend. “Good morning,” Erestor nodded to all there. Pleasantries were exchanged all around. After a late breakfast, Erestor excused himself from the table. Elrond rose and bade him well.

“If you wish it, I will go with you." Elrond whispered into his ear.

"I thank you my friend," Erestor sighed wearily, moved by the depth of his friendship; which was only one in a long line of friendships he had acquired over the years. "This is something I must accomplish on my own."

Elrond nodded in understanding while Celebrían gently took Erestor's hand in hers. "May the Valar guide you on your journey, and may you find peace in all you seek.”

"Thank you my lady," Erestor half bowed as he smiled at his fortune: family and friends true.

Walking along the streets of Tuná, Erestor was assuaged with familiarities; memories filled his mind as his childhood came rushing in to make him feel dizzy: his heart began to race, sweat formed on his brow, as that fateful day of his childhood whereupon he met Ecthelion first. The warrior was larger-than-life with eyes full of kindness and humor.

Clandestine meetings by moonlight... the excitement of new found love and lust. The deliciousness of almost getting caught. The allure of the forbidden. A smile crept along his full lips only to disappear abruptly as less than pleasant thoughts replaced his reminiscence. His father's chastisement of his declarations of love for Ecthelion that fateful day he lost his ball; his mother's quiet strength and hauntingly sad eyes. That bastard, Salgant, and his forced offer of treachery and finally to the fall itself, assailed all his senses.  
Closing his eyes tight, Erestor stopped, suddenly unaware of his surroundings. His senses were overloaded: screams, smoke, fire and metal clanging were all around him once more. He became lost in his head, as if transported back to the very past. He was reliving The Fall – all those centuries of repressed memories and of forgotten dreams overflowed his synapses causing him to fall to his knees while clutching his head. Elves passing by gathered around unbeknownst to him. A few brave souls tried to calm him to no avail.

A hand landed hard on his shoulder, then another, shaking him roughly. Sound came to his ears as through a funnel-far away and echoing. “Erestor…Erestor…Erestor!" Breathing heavily, heart racing, sweat dripping steadily down his face; Erestor slowly looked up with wild eyes. Kneeling before him was the very Elf who had caused Erestor the most grief… Ecthelion.

"Erestor, I..." Ecthelion’s eyes were filled with his emotions: deep sadness, surprise and overwhelming guilt.

"You!" snarled Erestor as he poked a shaky index finger into the center of his once lover’s chest. “One word, not so much as a single word... eight months I have been here and not one word! I was worth so little to you that I did not deserve even one word?" Erestor was shaking with rage, his face red with anger at the Elf before him whom he had lost his heart to so many long years ago.

"I know my son delivered my letter, did he not?" Erestor spoke through clenched teeth.  
"Yes." Ecthelion’s reply was nigh a whisper.

"You could have told me if you did not want me anymore. You could have told me if there was another, or perhaps you have even outgrown me?" Erestor asked. Ecthelion looked wildly around him, seeing the faces whispering about them; some with looks of complete confusion and others with the look of revulsion. Erestor realized that Ecthelion was concerned about his reputation still. Dismayed and hurt, Erestor pulled his right arm back and in an instant his fist flew forward to make contact with Ecthelion’s jaw. Ecthelion’s head snapped back in a blur of hair and then forward in anguish. Erestor stood on shaky legs, for an instant he thought they would fail him but they held fast as he quickly walked towards his destination: his parent’s home.

Ecthelion knew not how long he knelt there; it seemed like hours even though it was but a few minutes. He was afraid to move, afraid to see the faces of disgust around him. A gentle hand took hold of his shoulder. "Thel," Torech called him, "come on, let me take you home." Ecthelion stood on weary legs. He felt drained both physically and emotionally, his cheek was bright red and beginning to swell. "You love him don't you?" Torech asked quietly.

"I do." Ecthelion sighed.

By the time Erestor made it to the small house with a pretty little garden, that his parents resided in, his mind was still in quite the turmoil from the day’s events. The creak of the door opening made him look up to see his mother just exiting the house. She hastily wiped her hands on an apron which was tied around her waist. She started to cry and ran down the cobbled path to fall into her son's arms. Holding her tight, Erestor inhaled the scent of her hair -home -- she was home. Not wanting to let go, they stayed in their embrace gently rocking back and forth.

“My son, my son, oh how I have prayed for this day." She could barely speak

"Mother, I am so very sorry." Erestor quietly stated.

Eirien pulled back and gazed at her only child's face. His eyes were filled with all he had seen; they were wise and old. "Come in, come in, I shall make us some tea."

Erestor held her hand as together they walked to the open kitchen which was spotless and fresh. Sitting across the table from each other, their hands clasped together, Erestor took in every nuance of her face. She was still lovely, though time held some creases where there were once none, especially around her sad green eyes.

"I have a son, mother." She gripped his hand and began to cry tears of joy. "He is a wonderful Elf, I am so very proud of Melpomaen." Eirien whispered the name aloud. "He is wed to a delightful ellith and together they have a daughter born here in Valinor not seven months ago."

"Oh!" Eirien held on tighter to her son's hand. This was all so much to take in. She had lost her son so many years ago and now to learn that she has a grandson and great-granddaughter was almost too much for her to bear.

"She is bright and beautiful and I cannot wait for you to meet her. I cannot wait for you to meet them all." Erestor smiled wide, his face filled with pride. The whistle of the teapot broke into their moment. She quickly got up and put a cup before her son; she returned to her seat and poured the tea.

"And Lothwen? How is she?" Eirien asked.

"She is well. She is blissfully wed to Lord Glorfindel just a few months now."

"But how?" Eirien questioned, bewildered by the news.

"Dearest mother, Manwé granted our marriage null. We are the best of friends and I'm proud that she is the mother of my son." Here Erestor stopped, letting all that he said become absorbed by his mother. All manner of emotions crossed her face... until...

"Do you... I mean, are you...?" Eirien found herself unable to speak what she knew deep down in her heart.

Erestor rubbed his mother's hands with his thumbs. His gaze never wavered from hers.

"I prefer males. And yet, there has been none for me since..." Erestor sighed heavily, "since Gondolin."

“Oh my son, how very lonely for you." Eirien said quietly.

Not wanting his mother to worry, Erestor added suddenly, “nay, my life has been filled with family, friends and my work with the Lord Elrond. Oh mother, there's so much to tell you, but I want to know how you are... and of father."

"I will not lie and say that life has been happy, but it is quiet and I have waited for the day that you would come to us here in Valinor. Your father still works with King Turgon, helping to keep his books. I do believe you get your penchant for advisory duties from him."

“Aye.” Erestor nodded in agreement.

"Wait until he learns of your position with the Lord Elrond, he will be so proud." His mother was beaming. Erestor looked up into her eyes.

“Will he mother? Will that be good enough to cover my disgrace in his eyes?" In truth, Eirien could not answer the question posed to her.

Calimion, as if on cue, walked through the door searching for his wife; he was hungry yet he did not smell anything cooking.

“Did you forget dinner?" Calimion growled as he walked into the kitchen only to stop dead in his tracks. His eyes glared angrily at his son. “Back in Tuná but a day and already your disgrace is all over the main square!"

Erestor’s back stiffened; he squeezed his mother's hand gently and then turned to face his father. "I have no disgrace, father, for it is not forbidden, the love of two males.”

“Bah! Say not such vile things in my house!” Calimion growled.

“Calimion, please!” begged his mother, urging her husband to reconsider.

“Be quiet!” Calimion hissed at her, his face red and his hands balled into fists at his side. Eirien flinched, which did not go unnoticed by Erestor.

“Mother, please, come to New Imladris, stay with me, meet your grandson.” Erestor urged her.

“She is not going anywhere!” Calimion yelled as spittle flew from his mouth.

“Grandson?” Calimion looked bewildered then burst out into laughter. “Grandson? However did you manage that?”

“Calimion!” Eirien cried out. She was promptly ignored by her husband.

“Yes,” sneered Erestor’s father, “I heard all about your wife with Lord Glorfindel, couldn’t keep her, huh? Too much female for you?”

“Enough!” Erestor held up his hand to stop his father’s tirade, “I need not listen to your narrow minded drivel. “ He turned to leave. “Mother, my offer shall ever be open to you. I love you dearly.”

“Oh, my son, I love you too.” She fell into an embrace with him while Calimion fumed at the scene. He made a disgusted noise and abruptly left the room.

“Go to Lady Idril. She will have a carriage available to use whenever you wish it. I will see to it personally.” Eirien nodded, unable to speak. She kissed her son’s cheek as Erestor left her house: his heart heavily burdened.

TBC…


	22. Exposed

Gossip flies fast. It was no different here in Tuná. In two days time, all knew of the scene in the main square between Erestor and Lord Ecthelion. Erestor held his head high as he went about his stay with Elrond and his grandparents. No servant dared say anything untoward in the presence of their lord and lady’s guest. Tonight would be their last night before returning home, to which a huge dinner party would be thrown in honor of Elrond and his coming to Valinor. King Turgon and his wife, Lady Elenwë would be in attendance for their great-grandson’s event. Many noble Elves as well were invited to this special affair.

The dinner was held in the great garden of King Turgon’s home. Long tables were set in rows perpendicular to the main table which held Idril, Tuor, Turgon, Elenwë, Elrond, Celebrían and Erestor. The feast was massive. The servants brought out many dishes to serve their hungry guests: soups, pheasant, fish, venison, cheeses and wine flowed in abundance. Desserts of pies and fruits sated every belly at the reception until near bursting. Conversation flowed easily and more than one glance lingered on the face of Elrond’s faithful friend. King Turgon stood and banged an ornate spoon against his empty wine glass to bring attention upon himself. All eyes looked toward him in eager anticipation of what was to come next.

“Friends and family," Turgon looked around the garden of curious faces until his eyes came to rest upon Elrond’s.

“My son, I welcome you back to the home of your people. A people for whom you sacrificed much. Long years you fought beside Elves and Men against an evil many of us once faced ourselves, in Gondolin. That time will never be forgotten to any of us and some of us still bear the scars we received; both emotionally and physically.

But you my son, you suffered so much more: the loss of your parents at such a young age, the loss of your brother, your wife, your daughter. And yet you still went on, never faltering. Your unselfishness for our people is humbling. In Imladris you provided a home not just for yourself but a haven for anyone; be they Elf, Human, Dwarf or Hobbit. You provided safety, help and healing. I am so very proud to call you my grandson. Well met, my son, well met.” Turgon’s voice began to crack with emotion. Many an eye held unshed tears as he finished his speech. Those at the main table could no longer hold back there tears.

Erestor stood and held his glass toward his friend, “to Elrond!” He bellowed. All stood with glasses in hand and cheered “Elrond!" This went on for quite some time until Idril clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

“Please, my friends, let us make way for merry.” To which the servants began to move the tables to clear an area for dancing. Minstrels began to set up while happy chattering filled the night air.  
Elrond took Erestor by the side and hugged him tightly. This caught Erestor off guard because this was not something his lord would do regularly. "And most of this, my dear friend, would not have been done without you by my side. For that I'm eternally grateful for the guidance and the friendship that you have given me."  
Erestor felt a lump form in his throat. He was overwhelmed by the words spoken to him. "I'm afraid I know not what to say." Erestor said into his friend's eyes.

Elrond clapped him on the back. "Well my friend, then this is indeed a first." Elrond smirked and turned towards his wife and grabbing her by the hand twirled her out to the dance floor as the music began to play. Erestor watched them: a huge smile formed on his face.

~~~  
For the fourth time that day Torech burst into Ecthelion's home only to find him sitting in a chair, in his study, staring at an empty fireplace. Ecthelion did not even turn to see who was coming into his room. "Ecthelion, I have had enough. This is not about you. This is about Erestor. You either get your arse out there or you will lose him forever."  
Ecthelion slowly turned his neck and looked at Torech. "I have lost him already. I do not deserve him. I am a coward." He then turned to stare back at nothingness.  
“Fine! You're right. This Ecthelion does not deserve him. The Ecthelion of Gondolin did. How you ever defeated two balrogs, I will never know." Torech gave a sound of disgust and promptly left the room but not before muttering, "and this Ecthelion is not the one that I was killed for.” The slamming of the door reverberated throughout the entire room. ~~~

 

Many were the Elves that came up to Elrond to thank him and greet him that night. It was a little overbearing at times. His family tried to save him every chance they could by either taking him for a dance or to excuse him for some feigned important matter. Erestor danced with Celebrían and even with the Lady Idril. Many glances were thrown his way by an Elf interested in getting to know the handsome counselor and some by the curious onlooker who heard of the mess in the square.

Erestor was having an enlightening conversation with Tuor and King Turgon about the ramifications of The Fall. They were curious as to what the histories had to say. Turgon dealt with guilt all these many long years due to Maeglin’s deceptions. He felt that he should have known. That he had a duty to protect his people and in isolating them so well, he failed them. Tuor and Erestor tried to reassure him that it would have happened no matter the circumstances, but they could see that even though Turgon would nod in agreement with them, his eyes were ever dark and haunted with the past. So engrossed in their conversation were they that they did not notice that the room had gone quiet while the minstrels took a much needed break.  
Hushed whispers started around them:

“Look who is here.”

“I wonder if there will be a scene?”

“Disgusts me, he does.”

“He doesn’t even know Lord Elrond……”

Walking into the garden, with his head held high, Ecthelion glanced around him in search of Erestor. He was dressed impeccably. His hair was braided intricately with a few diamonds scattered within them. He wore a tunic of delicate gray with a spray of silver and diamonds sprawled in a delicate pattern that simulated a water-fall. His pants of dark blue matched the color of his robe which held the same pattern of his tunic. His countenance was striking. His face the only part of his visage to belie his true feelings; though confident, he was fraught with nervousness. In that he felt alive for the first time in a very long time. His stomach played annoying games of leap frog with its meager contents as he espied that which he came here for.  
Idril nudged Celebrían gently, “that is Lord Ecthelion.”

Celebrían turned to look at whom Idril was referring to and smiled wide. She in turn whispered into Elrond’s ear, and he turned to see what the fuss was all about. He scowled. He better not hurt Erestor anymore than he already had, he thought. He could not deny that this Elf indeed looked like the slayer of yore.  
Turgon was the first to see him. He stopped a few feet before them and bowed before the king. “My King,” he spoke respectfully.

Erestor’s head whipped around to the intruder. His eyes narrowed even as his heart rate sped up at the beautiful Elf before them now.

Turgon waved his arm in dismissal. “I am not your king here.”

“You will ever be my king.” He nodded sincerely. He then turned to Tuor.

“My Lord,” he nodded to Tuor who in turn greeted him similarly.

“May I speak to Master Erestor?” He asked the king.

“Of course… we shall take our leave.”

“No, that is not necessary,” he looked to both, “what I have to say I must do so to all.”

Inwardly Erestor groaned. Here it was, Ecthelion’s public denial of their once relationship. Let him, thought Erestor, let him deny us so I may start anew.

What he did not expect was the next thing that happened. Ecthelion raised his hands and turned to the crowd. His voice rose commandingly as he asked for everyone’s attention.

“My fellow Elves, please, may I have your attention. “ All fell silent around them in anticipation of what was to come.

Celebrían had to gently restrain Elrond who was ready to defend his friend in any way needed. Erestor saw the slight commotion and nodded to Elrond and my mouthed that he was fine with a slight nod of his head.

Ecthelion continued. “In Gondolin, so very long ago, I fell in love with Erestor.” Gasps were heard around the room and even one came from Erestor, himself. Erestor turned to face Ecthelion, his eyes filled with surprise. Ecthelion nodded to him. “Being forbidden, we hid our love in clandestine meetings. But soon we were found out by Salgant and his minions. He forced Erestor to marry his niece or else he would reveal all. He had already killed Torech years before….” Ecthelion then held his head down in humiliation. Shocked gasps and declarations were heard all around them now. Salgant was not returned to the undying lands and now it made sense to all as to the reason why.

“I made plans to leave Gondolin with Erestor…but then The Fall….and we all know what happened after that.”  
Ecthelion turned to Erestor and pleading into his eyes, spoke. “I know I do not deserve it but I seek your forgiveness. I was a fool, a coward, weak. I should have written you back when your son gave me your letter. I stood upon the hill overlooking your arrival at the dock and I should have run to you.” Erestor was shocked by that revelation. “I cared what others thought of us…of me…I was afraid that like Torech, you would be harmed because of me. Torech died because of my lusts, but you, I could not bear to lose you and yet I did just that. I love you. You may reject me forever and I can understand it if you do, but know that it is you whom I love, you who owns my heart now and forever. Can you forgive an old fool?” Ecthelion’s voice wavered; his palms were now sweating as he stared deeply into the most stunning eyes he had ever seen. Erestor just stood there, unable to move. He was shocked not only by the words spoken, but that Ecthelion did so publicly. He aired their secret. To all. No answer came from Erestor’s beautiful lips. His head was spinning wildly. He felt as if this were some dream he could not awaken from.

Defeated, Ecthelion sighed heavily while backing up. He turned and began to walk the way he came in which now seemed far longer than it did when he entered the garden. He no longer saw any around him. All he observed was his heart breaking. He deserved it. He did it to Erestor and only warranted the same.

Erestor watched his back retreat and a panic welled up in the pit of his stomach. This is it, he thought. Now or never. He knew this was hard for Ecthelion-monumental.

“Ecthelion!” Erestor called after him with all the authority he could muster. Slowly Ecthelion turned. “I accept your apology…for everything. I…I love you.” Idril began crying as did Celebrían and quite a few others in the garden that night.

The two began to walk in great strides to the other. Finally reaching each other, they fell into the other’s arms and kissed passionately; lips clashing and teeth banging against the other in their passion. “I am so sorry, so sorry,” Ecthelion kept whispering between kisses.

“You are forgiven, please, no more,” Erestor would reply. Suddenly many broke into applause of the love before them. And others turned their heads in disgust. But it did not matter to the two who stood as if alone, in the king’s garden, on a beautiful night in Valinor.

The End.

Epilogue to follow.


	23. Epilogue

“ADATOR! ADATOR!” The name resounded loudly throughout the halls of New Imladris. Even though his granddaughter, Lothluin, was twenty-five now, she still called Erestor by the name she gave him when just a babe. Unable to say his name properly, she called him Ada Tor, which became a one-word forename as she grew.

“You are being paged, love. “ Ecthelion smiled at the familiar adage. They just finished dressing for the morning, when the voice grew louder as it neared their quarters.

“She sounds more excited than usual,” Erestor quickly went to the door and opened it as he saw a lovely ellith with a mane of unruly auburn hair running towards him. “Really, Lothluin, you must not run so in the halls, you could trip…” He was interrupted by her arms going around his waist, almost knocking him over. Only the door saved his fall.

“Adator, the baby is here! Come quickly, it is so very precious!” Lothluin smiled wide, her cheeks flushed from running.

Erestor smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him with all her might. She suddenly stopped and glanced into the room. “Thelion! You too, come on!”

“Yes, come on, Thelion!” Erestor teased to which Ecthelion laughed, his eyes twinkling in mirth.

She grabbed Ecthelion’s hand as she led them to the newest arrival in their home.

“Oh, he is precious! He has blue hair and blonde eyes, no, I mean blue eyes and blonde hair,” giggled Lothluin. “Did you hear what I said Adator?” She continued to giggle. “He is so very small, with little hands, and little feet, and a wrinkly face! Nana said that he is big, but he looks tiny to me, I think she is silly, don’t you? Oh, well, wait and you will see…” Lothluin babbled constantly the whole way through the halls until they reached their destination. “Oh and Ada says that he is my Uncle! But he cannot be, can he, because he is too small? Everyone knows that only grownups can be aunts or uncles…sometimes I think my Ada is silly too!”

Erestor smiled and nodded while Ecthelion tried desperately not to laugh at her enthusiasm. “Nana sent me to get you; she said you wanted to be there, and that only I could get you! Isn’t that wonderful, Adator?”  
“That is because you are so dependable and smart.” Erestor told her to which she beamed with happiness and smiled wide.

Outside of Lothwen and Glorfindel’s chambers, stood a smiling Elrond, Melpomaen, Fauniel, and Eirien: “Come here, Lothluin,” Eirien gestured with open arms.

“I brought them, I told you I would.” Lothluin beamed happily as she went to her great-grandmother’s open embrace.

“I never doubted your skills,” Eirien smiled fondly as she kissed the top of Lothluin’s head. Since moving to New Imladris with Erestor a month after he asked her too, Eirien soon found a place in all the hearts of the residents there.

Eirien was a gentle, loving soul, always giving; deeply in love with her grandchildren, and they with her. Lothluin, especially, grew attached to her and the two were nigh inseparable companions. Their days were spent with lessons on gardening, baking, sewing and painting. Eirien fond she had an almost intrinsic ability to paint. She spent much time on the porches or in the gardens, exploring her artistic side- something that she never thought she could do when she lived with her controlling husband.

Erestor stopped at the doorway. “How is Lothwen?” His concern showed in his voice.

“Tired but sound,” smiled Elrond, adding, “go in, she is asking for you.”

Releasing a large sigh, Erestor gently knocked upon the open doorway. A twinge of melancholy hit him as he espied the happy family within the large bed. Glorfindel sat beside Lothwen who had the babe in her arms, cooing softly to him. It seemed both long ago and yesterday that she held Melpomaen much the same way. Glorfindel smiled wide at him and gestured for Erestor to come closer.

Erestor half bowed. “Congratulations my friends,” he nodded as Lothwen smiled brightly.

“How are you fairing?” He quietly asked with true concern.

“Tired but well, please, come closer.” She held out her precious bundle for him to hold. He hesitated but a moment, and then gently took the babe in his arms.

He gazed at the life before him in wonderment. So small and fragile, yet so utterly captivating. He found himself mesmerized by the tiny facial movements and the delightful little grunts only a newborn could make. He found himself nudging the utterly soft little tufts of hair with his nose; taking in the sweet scent of him. He was in awe once more at the fragile life before him. “He is so beautiful.”

Lothwen began to cry silently at the way Erestor handled her child with such tenderness and love. She couldn’t help but feel melancholy for the time when he first held Melpomaen as a babe. Feeling the same, he caught her eyes and smiled. He then gently handed the infant to his father. He grasped Glorfindel’s shoulder, “take care of them, my friend.” He leaned down and kissed the now sleeping Lothwen.

Returning to the hall, Ecthelion was all that remained there in waiting. Erestor’s eyes questioned the disappearance of the others. “They went for a much needed meal. Would you like to join them?”

“No, I think not.” Erestor sighed slowly.

“Come; let us take a ride, hmnn?” Ecthelion urged Erestor towards the stairs that led out of the main house. Erestor nodded in agreement and took his lover’s hand.

They rode for at least an hour, the wind rushing through their hair taking troubles with it as it wisped behind them sharply. The countryside was a mottle of trees and cottages along the impromptu road that led towards a small village of independent fishermen, who used the river’s bounty and lived upon its edges. Slowing, they trotted near a ford in the river and dismounted to allow their horses to drink. They looked around and seeing a fallen tree, headed to it for a makeshift seat. They were slightly out of breath and their faces pink from the wind as Erestor sank heavily upon their improvised bench. Ecthelion sat with a loud whoosh and smiled. Erestor closed his eyes and breathed deep of the moist air. Feeling his hair being smoothed, he opened his eyes to see such a look of love in Ecthelion’s green eyes, that a shiver befell him.

That same hand traced along his cheek and jaw, the long fingers deceptively tender. “So beautiful,” Ecthelion spoke reverently as he replaced his fingers with soft full lips. Erestor let out a genuine sigh to Ecthelion’s delight. Lips brushed his at first ever lightly, with Erestor seeking harder contact. Smiling, Ecthelion pulled back to watch the pouting mouth before him; a mouth of which delights he knew of well. Erestor grabbed his lover’s hair pulling him in for a searing kiss of dueling tongues. Ecthelion fell forward onto his knees which grew weak from such a scorching kiss. His hands searched downwards until they found the ties to Erestor’s pants to which he pulled vigorously, loosening them easily. Without a thought, Ecthelion’s hands released its prize, Erestor’s full and slickened erection. Erestor groaned and that sent Ecthelion’s heart racing and he bent down and took Erestor’s cock full in his mouth. Crying out, Erestor grabbed handfuls of hair as Ecthelion’s skilled tongue went to work. He left not one inch of Erestor’s cock un-licked, kissed or sucked upon. He then took him full in his mouth once more, sucked hard and in twirling his tongue in the slit upon the impossibly hard cock before him, found himself swallowing hard to drink of all that was spilt upon his tongue after his lover stiffened and came crying out his name over and over. Small waves of ecstasy shuddered through Erestor until he fell limp onto the ground, Ecthelion licking his lips and smiling wide above him. Unable to speak and chest heaving from his orgasm, Erestor grabbed at Ecthelion’s pants, to which Ecthelion quickly undid them freeing his hardened cock for Erestor to see. Erestor smiled into Ecthelion’s eyes wickedly, “touch yourself, and come on me.”

Ecthelion groaned loudly as his cocked jerked at those words, “watch me.”

“Oh, my eyes shall not be averted,” teased Erestor as he sat upon his elbows to get a better look.

Ecthelion began to pleasure himself slowly but could not do so without jerking wildly about. His hand stroked fast and hard, until his body tightened and he yelled out as he came in hard bursts upon Erestor’s chest, lap and legs. He collapsed to his side, with Erestor kissing him softly and stroking his face sweetly. “Thank you love,” he kissed him some more before they cleaned themselves by the water and walked hand in hand to get their horses.

As they rode back to New Imladris just before sunset, Erestor looked upon his home and smiled. He was happy and could ask for nothing more.

 

The End


End file.
